


i'm not going to lie to you this is basically high school musical

by orphan_account



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: AU: High School, AU: Musical Theatre, Multi, Slow Burn, a little songficcy at time but what were u expecting really, au: modern, copious musical theatre references, the slowest burn known to man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: we're breaking freeupdates every wednesdaydiscontnued sorry im ufucking lazy





	1. Old Compton Street

**Author's Note:**

> not beta read but if you're interested in being sent drafts at 1am do hit me up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w h o t u r g l e d

It’s five in the morning, and Mikleo does not want to be awake.

Who does want to be awake, he thinks miserably, on the first day back after winter break for junior year? It’s not like the semester holds anything particularly special in store for anyone; it’s not exciting and new and slightly terrifying like the first day back after summer, nor does it hold the promise of an upcoming end to a high school career like senior year will. It’s an awkward middle stage, even more so than being a sophomore. The beginning of the second semester is just a sucky goodbye to a holiday of forgetting everything you’ve ever learned and a welcome back from people who already know your face and love or hate you based on whatever it is you did the semester before. Ever humiliated yourself? Everyone still remembers. Got a shameful secret? Everyone already knows.

Quite frankly, Mikleo doesn't even _like_ school. He’s good at it, sure; he’s got a good few AP classes this year, good grades, and teachers like him – which is more than a lot of students can say – but… Well, there’s only so much taunting one small, skinny looking boy with a shaggy blonde bowl cut can handle on a daily basis, and Mikleo doesn’t exactly have legions of fans begging him to be their friend.

On the other hand, he’s ready for Christmas break to end already. It wasn’t that living near a city like Pendrago was consistently boring – on the contrary – it was just that summer had _kind of_ been full of family drama, and not the good kind.

Realistically, they were evicted. His mother, Muse, had lost her job and they could no longer afford their house in Marlind – the one Muse had worked her ass off for a decade to keep a hold of in the first place. Mikleo has always respected her for her strength in times like these; his biological father had left her long before Mikleo was born, so it had always just been them, and he knows it can’t have been easy to raise a child by herself and still succeed in her career. Especially not a child like Mikleo, who seemed to have problems myriad to a larger degree than other kids his age. So, he chose to be blasé about the whole affair. He didn’t make a big deal about selling a great deal of his books or his clothes, nor having to switch his cat over to a cheaper brand of food and cancel her insurance to afford to keep her.

Ladylake was a nice place, considering how cheap the rent was where they moved. Bonus, he was now a ten minute walk from school rather than an hour and a half train ride, which meant that he didn’t _have_ to get up at five in the morning any more. Not that it stopped him - his internal clock obviously hadn't had time to adjust.

His cat’s claws were also digging into his stomach through his pyjama shirt. That sure didn’t help.

“Good morning, Victoria,” Mikleo groaned, reaching forward to lift her off of him and wincing when her claws tugged his skin. She was still used to his old routine, he notes. He didn’t have a bus to catch now, though; waking up at five every morning would definitely suck if she kept it up. The fluffy tortoiseshell innocently blinks big yellow eyes at him. “You know, meowing in my ear used to work just fine, little lady.”

She meows tauntingly at him in response, hopping off of his bed and brushing up past his legs in a figure-of-eight when he swings them off of the side. Sleepily, he rubs his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll feed you, miss impatient, just let me brush my teeth.” Mikleo drawls, voice heavy with sleep. As it always does on the day before school kicks in after a break spanning longer than a single week, anxiety had been detrimental to sleeping properly. He’s not sure how many times exactly he had to wake up to pee, but it was definitely more than four times. It’s more tiring than usual to go about his morning routine when he feels sluggish like this. He needs to pee again.

The new apartment’s bathroom was so much smaller than even the en suite he enjoyed back in Marlind; Mikleo wasn’t particularly tall, even, and he still had to crouch a little to avoid whacking straight into the showerhead. That aside, he couldn’t see at all since it was so dark behind the shower curtain. Not that having to put extra focus into his morning shower was a bad thing – the irritation and effort required to make sure he felt clean without being able to see what he was doing was a nice distraction from his pre-school anxiety.

Victoria was waiting for him when he stepped out of the bathroom, immediately meowing impatiently before he had even closed the door behind him.

“Do I at least look presentable?” He asked the cat tiredly, giving her an exasperated look. She meowed again, louder this time. Sighing, Mikleo crouched down to rub the cat’s head. “At least you don’t care what I wear. You just care that I feed you, huh, princess?” Once again, she meowed her assent. Smiling softly, Mikleo stood back up to trudge into the main room of the apartment, a living room attached to a small kitchenette where he spots Muse pouring a cup of coffee. The kitchenette is separated from the living room only by a curtain; when it's closed, he feels a little bit like he's talking to the Wizard of Oz.

“Morning, mom.” He yawns as he pads into the kitchen, absently brushing at his hair to keep his bangs out of his eyes. He’d probably need to cut it before long; not even the gel he put in it was holding the strands out of the way of his face. 

“Hi Mikleo!” Muse greets him. She hands him a steaming cup when she turns to greet him. It's his favourite mug, with a cheerful looking kitten painted onto the side. “Milk, two sugars, just how you like it, sweetheart.”

Mikleo hums his thanks as he takes the cup of tea, blowing on it gently. The warm cup is a welcome respite from the chilly winter air that invades their new apartment on the daily. He hopes their landlord will come by to fix the heating soon so he doesn't have to sleep like he lives in a glacier. “Any plans for today?” He asks, taking a sip before setting the cup down on the counter.

“Oh, just looking around the city today, dear.” She lifts Victoria’s food bowl up off the ground just as Mikleo pulls out a pouch of food from the cupboard for her. He takes it with another quiet thanks. “We could do with making this place feel a bit more homey, don’t you think? I was hoping to buy some new cushions, maybe a lamp for your room.”

Victoria is already purring like a motorbike as Mikleo sets her food bowl down in front of her. “I’m not sure that’s the way to prioritise when we’ve just moved, mom.” He laughs as he says it. “Did you only sell all of those cushions just so you could buy new ones? And I don't need a lamp.”

“You know how I love my cushions!” Muse grins, pulling out a chair at the table to sit down and drink her coffee. She picks up a newspaper, previously abandoned on the side. “Though I would like to see what kind of shops are around here. There’s a pretty little flower shop around the corner I’d like to check out.”

“You know Victoria will shred up any flowers you buy, right?” Mikleo raises an eyebrow when he spares his mother a glance, promptly returning to pulling out the various things he needs to make himself a sandwich. He’s never trusted school cafeterias and that wasn’t changing today. At least he got over his phase where he refused to eat in school  _at all_ \- it's not easy to live your life when your first meal of the day isn't until five in the afternoon and you're surviving predominantly on multivitamins and energy drinks.

“Yes, and don’t think I’ve forgiven her for the cosmos incident!” Muse’s exasperated look at the cat is good natured. For Victoria’s part, she just flicks her tail and continues eating. Me too, Mikleo thinks. “Honestly, you let that cheeky cat get away with too much, hun. I don’t know how many more dead birds I’m prepared to see.”

“You can’t blame her,” Mikleo notes, smearing peanut butter and then jam jelly over his slices of bread. He doesn't miss the scornful look his mom gives him when he spreads peanut butter on both slices of bread - old fashioned woman just doesn't get Mikleo's distaste for soggy bread slices. “She just thinks we’re bad at being cats. I’ve never seen you catch a bird either, mom. No wonder she thinks we’re useless.” Absently, he licks jam off of his finger before putting the slices together.

Muse laughs, stealing a bread crust as Mikleo slices it off of his sandwich. “Don’t get snarky with me, mister, I do your laundry for you!”

Mikleo ducks his head to hide his snort of laughter, packing his sandwich into a box along with an apple and handful of grapes. He'll grab a carton of chocolate milk on the way to school where his mom can't judge him. “I cook you dinner, so we’re even.”

Muse laughs her agreement, turning her attention back to the paper as she turns the page past the daily news. There’s comfortable silence for a few minutes as Mikleo finishes off his tea, busying himself with preparing his schoolbag as he drinks. He has less textbooks than he's used to on most days of the year - his electives had changed in time for a new semester, and usually books were school-issued. Which is pretty useful, since Mikleo isn't sure he has money to splurge on the four different textbooks on his cultural anthropology reading list, not without getting a job himself.

“I better get going.” He tells Muse softly, rinsing his mug out in the sink. “First day back and all. Don’t want to be late.”

“No breakfast?” Muse hums over her newspaper. Mikleo notes that she’s looking at job advertisements and elects not to say anything about it - not today.

“I’ve never had breakfast, mom.” Mikleo tuts, packing the lunchbox into his schoolbag. “No offense but I’m not keen on throwing up.”

“I can get behind that, but do make sure you eat later.” Muse nods, taking a sip of her coffee. “Well, have a good day, sweetheart! Make an effort to talk to some of the other kids this semester, okay?”

Mikleo inhales, slow, then lets it out in a small sigh. It’s a well-intentioned comment, but Muse knows he’s never been any good at making new friends. He’s had the same best friend since he was five, for God’s sake, and he hasn't spoken to her in weeks. “Yeah, mom.” He agrees anyway, if only to see his mother’s bright smile return. He'll let her believe.

“Proud of you already, Mikleo. See you tonight.”

“Yeah. See you.”

 

 

Despite the promise to his mother, Mikleo makes a great effort to avoid any and all human contact in the school hallway.

He’s focused mostly on the displays on the corridor walls – it’s a good way to avoid accidentally looking someone in the eye, he’s noticed, if he can pretend he’s incredibly interested in the various posters littering the halls. Plus, it means he’s not looking at the floor, which would make him look like an emo loser with no friends. Which he isn’t. Probably.

Mikleo is quite used to feeling invisible at school – it’s absolutely no surprise when two stranger jocks (and, yes, he does mean _jocks_ , the students at this school seem to positively radiate 90s high school movie tropes) shoulder past him so roughly that he almost falls over, nor when a group of girls skitter past him with such a lack of grace that Mikleo gets at least three separate elbows to the ribs. He wonders if it's fair skin; in the zombie-flourescent lighting of Ladylake High School he must be practically transparent. 

 _Just keep looking forward_ , he thinks, trying to avoid being crashed into again. It’s almost like no one sees him – shoulders crash into his sides, threatening to knock him over without so much as a ‘haha sorry dude’ or ‘woops’. There’s a huddle of girls outside his homeroom door, too, so now he can’t go in there and hide in a corner. A poster just to the left of the door is suddenly looking incredibly interesting. Oh, wow, is that times new roman? Fascinating. Incredible.

He stops to read it, taking his sweet time on each individual word as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever read in his entire life. The girls by the door don’t pay him any mind, which is good. Sure, they don’t move out of the way so he can get to the classroom, but he’s not in a hurry or anything.

It takes three rereads to actually figure out what the sheet pinned to the wall is actually trying to tell him, considering he wasn’t initially interested in what it had to say. It’s the words ‘spring musical’ that finally catch his eye, underneath a rainbow word art ‘CASTING CALL’ that Mikleo isn’t sure is appropriate nor professional.

 

 **CASTING CALL  
** Spring Musical - Soho Cinders

Ladylake Drama Society is looking for actors and singers for the student-run spring musical. Auditions will be running over the next two weeks during Wednesday and Thursday lunchtimes in the drama studio. Cold reads will be provided; everyone auditioning will need to prepare a short song (between one and two minutes). The song can be anything you want, provided it is not part of the _Soho Cinders_ soundtrack. Any questions, please email any one of us via the school system. Audition timetable slots can be found and booked on the school portal online.

Sincerely,

Eguille Sparrow, Club President

Rosh Bone, Musical Director

Lucas Woods, Stage Manager

 

Wow, Mikleo thinks, reading it over again. Sounds riveting. Sounds like something that will get him shoved in a locker on his way to class.

Not that he doesn’t _already_ get his fair share of teasing. He gets a classic ‘gay’ comment every other week, for one. Musically inclined boys aren’t always targets, no, but Mikleo has the profound joy of being both a talented violin player and a twinkish looking gremlin with emo bangs, so, yeah, he’s a target. He hasn’t tried out for the orchestra since someone shoved gay porn magazines into his locker in the middle of freshman year, so, not happening. He prefers to lay low. Starring in the school musical is the _opposite_ of laying low. It’s practically launching yourself into the proverbial and literal spotlight at this school – it’s a pretty big deal, mostly because nothing else interesting happens and the sports teams mostly suck. You’ve got to have something, he guesses.

“Thinking of signing up?” A shamelessly loud, almost obnoxiously so, voice shocks him from behind – he almost crashes forward into the wall, but he manages to compose himself at the last second so it looks like he was double checking the poster.

He turns to face his assailant, who turns out to be a short, sort of chubby-looking but conventionally attractive girl with a mess of red hair tied in a loose ponytail that Mikleo knows he’s seen (and heard, oh, definitely heard) before but never had the pleasure of meeting. Named after a plant of some sort, but he can’t remember which. She gained infamy after breaking some guys nose. He's never cared much for gossip so he doesn't know the full story, but he can definitely imagine such a fiery looking person breaking a nose.

“Perhaps.” He lies, knowing full well he’d rather go crawl into a dumpster.

”You look like a theatre type.” She says with a catlike grin, reminiscent of the face Victoria makes when she’s shredded one of Mikleo’s shirts in the hamper. “You’ve got good legs for dancing. You dance?”

“No.” Mikleo answers curtly. 

“Well, we’ll teach you that,” The girl’s eager blue eyes stay trained on Mikleo no matter how hard he tries to avoid them. “I’m Rose, by the way! Rose Wilkis. The director’s my cousin.”

 _Her parents called her Rose Rose_. Mikleo tries not to snort. “You make it sound like I already got in.” He thinks to wonder what her earlier comment about his legs was supposed to mean. Does she think he's straight? Is this the legendary, 'girl tries to get into your pants' encounter? Should he tell her he's gay?

“Well – we don’t get a whole lot of auditions for certain parts.” He knew Rose had a purpose in talking to him, but damn. She was already casting him when he could be, like, shit, or something. “And it’s always good to see new faces anyway!”

Mikleo notices the girls from before have dispersed, and thinks to excuse himself to get to homeroom before the bell rings, but Rose immediately has him caged with one arm. Girl has _reflexes._

“So you gonna sign up?” She asks again, staring intently at Mikleo as he tries to edge out the side that she hasn’t barricaded and free himself.

“I’ll think about it.” Mikleo replies, sounding more sure of his response than he is.

He can’t help but think this isn’t the last he’s seen of Rose Wilkis if the hot stare on his back when he enters the classroom is anything to go by.

 

 

It isn’t the last he sees of Rose Wilkis.

If there’s any place in the school that Mikleo feels safe in, it’s the music practice rooms. They’re soundproof, for one, so they’re always quiet on the inside, and you can listen to music as loud as you want without anyone judging you for listening to the entire Glee discography on loop for the entirety of your study period. He’s got a good relationship with the head of the music department, Ms. Mioma – who insists he calls her Lailah – so practice room 3 is basically Mikleo’s all of the time, so long as no one has a music lesson in there.

He mostly uses the room for doing homework in so he won’t get bothered during free periods or in the second half of lunch. He’s always concentrated better this way, his ‘Homework’ playlist on full volume through his headphones while he writes his essay on the cultural history of jazz.

 _Another_ benefit of soundproofed rooms is that he can sing along as loud as he wants, complete with dramatics – and God knows the Glee soundtrack _needs_ to be performed with dramatics – and no one can judge him for it. And if there’s something else that God knows, it’s that being overheard singing _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ at the top of your lungs by yourself doesn’t end without some kind of humiliating conversation. Mikleo could tell you that himself even without the additional wisdom of a deity.

Mikleo would consider himself to be quite free-spirited, when he’s prepared to let his hair down a little. Despite how he might come across, particularly to strangers, he’s not as stiff and terse as one might assume – and that’s none more prevalent a fact than when he’s alone like this, free from prying eyes and ears, and jamming by himself to _Somebody to Love_ like it’s the end of the world and the only thing that could fill the void impending doom creates is gesticulating dramatically wildly and trying to sing two different vocals at once.

“ _Somebody find me – Find me – Somebody find me-e …._ ” It’s not helping him write about Louis Armstrong, but fuck it, dramatic singalongs are good all the time. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man himself indulged in a little bit of overexaggerated lipsync from time to time. Who doesn’t? “ _Somebody to lo-ove..._ ”

Mikleo flips his pen into the air like he’s tossing a mic and fails to catch it. “ _Somebody_ … _Somebody… Somebody, to-o..._ ” It’s an excuse, at least, to stand up and be even more theatrical. Mikleo has never been much of a dancer – he’d never learned, because signing up for dance classes of any kind on top of everything else seemed far more homosexual than he was willing to be in public. As with everything else, that’s no reason not to try. He slutdrops to get his pen. “ _Lo-ove_ … _!_ ”

That’s when the door outright _slams_ open, Mikleo mid-squat, and it’s Rose _damn_ Wilkis staring down at him like the cat who caught the canary. His first thought is _oh shit, I didn’t close the door properly_. His second thought is _oh shit_.

“So help me,” She says, never looking away from Mikleo’s deer-in-the-headlights expression. She doesn’t skip a beat. “You’re _going_ to audition.”

 

 

Mikleo’s leg shakes as he leans against the wall of the front of the school. He’s never been good at meeting up with people; he’s never sure if he should arrive on time or be early or late, and he feels weird scanning the crowd for people, yet even weirder when whoever he’s supposed to be meeting is suddenly next to him and he didn’t even notice their arrival. Then there's the awkward first greeting. Oh, God, the awkward first greeting.

He whiles away the seconds, minutes, checking his phone, rereading the text. _Outside school by the bike racks, will meet u after last period_. He hadn’t exactly sprinted out of his last class, but he had no way of knowing how long it took to get around this school from a class that hadn’t even been disclosed to him. He ignores the onslaught of texts he’s getting from an unknown number ( _how_ Rose got a hold of his number he wishes he knew – he suspects Lailah is involved) with links on audition tips and vocal scores. He thinks Rose would go as far to follow him home if he let her spot him now.

He’d hoped not to space out while he was waiting, but his inner turmoil got the better of him; it takes the sharp jab an umbrella in his side to knock him out of his stupor.

“Hello, Meebo.” He has to say, he’s never been more relieved to hear Edna’s voice. He only cares a little bit that he's going to bruise like a peach at the area of attack.

“Hi,” he greets, breathy. He can’t even bring himself to be irritated by the nickname; he hasn’t seen her in weeks, and God if it isn’t a relief to see a familiar face. Usually they would have spent Christmas and New Year together, but the whole relocation mess had meant they weren't in contact for a while. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“Since November,” Edna notes, folding her umbrella away. “I’m fine.”

“And Eizen?”

“Doing much better.”

Mikleo leans back against the wall, relaxing in Edna’s familiar company. Edna and her brother, Eizen, were good family friends and neighbours from Mikleo’s childhood – the three of them went to Sunday School together and, growing up, they had been as close as siblings. If the way Edna teased him was anything to go by, the feeling was very much mutual.

“How do you like living in Ladylake so far?” It's strange Edna asks; she's never been one for small talk. Mikleo dares to think she might actually be _worrying_ about his wellbeing and decides to be flattered. “Given any thought to what you might want to do this semester? I know how uptight you are about your college applications.”

“I don’t know,” Mikleo admits. “I kind of want to get settled properly after the move before I start getting involved with any extracurricular activities. The move was pretty hectic.”

Edna looks thoughtful for a moment, twirling her umbrella against the concrete. “You could always take up violin again. You didn’t even try out for the orchestra last year, and it’s not like it would take up a lot of time to practice. You’re already pretty okay at it.”

“I’m already doing music theory as an elective,” Mikleo begins, gazing down at his shoes. “I don’t know? I’ve been playing the violin for years. Maybe I should try something else for a change. Pick up a new instrument, I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you take singing lessons in middle school?” Edna eyes are boring straight into him, as if she knows there’s something he isn’t saying - especially with how he flinches at the mention of singing.

Mikleo groans; there’s no hiding anything from her, not with how perceptive she is and how long they’ve known each other. Hell, she probably already knows what the situation is through some weird telepathic connection with the universe. “Ugh, don’t even start. A girl from the drama club spotted me checking out their poster and now she’s trying to induct me into her musical cult or something.”

Edna quirks a brow at him. “That’s a problem how? Not to be rude but you’re pretty fucking talented. I've heard you in the shower.”

“You know I’m not good with people,” Mikleo isn’t sulking at how feeble his excuse is.

“And you won’t get any better at it if you don't try, Loneleo.” He actually does grimace at the nickname this time. All these years and he can't remember the last time Edna used his actual name. “I hate people and I still stand around and harmonise with a bunch of girls I don't like. If I can do it, so can you.”

Mikleo vaguely remembers Edna mentioning her joining the all-girl A Capella group in sophomore year and how much she immediately hated everyone, and hums sympathetically. He doesn't think he could manage to just deal with it like she can; he lets people get to him too easily, for one.

Edna sighs at his lack of response. “How’s Muse?” The return to small-talk is a relief; Mikleo isn't sure he needs Edna grilling him over ‘engaging with his peers’ on top of his mom.

“Mom is fine,” Mikleo puts one hand on his hip as he leans back against the wall of the school building, trying not to look frustrated. “No job yet, but it's not for lack of trying. Uncle Michael is paying for the apartment until she gets back on her feet.”

The corner of Edna’s lips turn up into a knowing smile. “And I suppose you're absolutely ecstatic about that little detail?”

It’s hitting the nail on the head; Mikleo has never gotten on particularly well with his uncle, but matters had only been made worse when Mikleo had started to be more open with his family about his sexuality. The man was, to put it kindly, old fashioned; if he wasn't treating the subject as a phase, he was making no secret of the fact that he disapproved of the ‘lifestyle choice’. He wasn't directly abusive, fortunately, but Mikleo could only take so much tormenting when his mother was too close to her sibling to defend her son. It was one of her few character flaws, but a pretty big one.

“I have a roof over my head. I can't complain.” He’s at least being honest; just because Michael is supporting Muse doesn't mean he has to see the man any more often than he already does. “It's not like he tries to call me or anything. Mom talks to him a lot, but never about me.”

“Mmm.” Edna leans into the wall next to him, arms brushing in what he thinks is probably an attempt at a comforting gesture. She’s never been one for physical contact, at least not with Eizen. “Meebo?”

Mikleo turns to tilt his head at her. “Yeah?”

“I'm going to say this because I'm your friend and, for whatever reason, I care about you.” She faces him with her usual blank expression; he reads it at serious. “This isn't going to be like last year. There's only so much Sadleo I can take. I'm not telling you to launch yourself out there, but at least let people in a bit. I know I'm one to talk, but I'm not lonely.”

“And I am?” Mikleo scoffs. Edna raises an eyebrow and he knows he's been beaten. “Alright, okay, I get it.”

“Good boy.” Edna cracks her best attempt at a smile, pats him on the arm, and stands back up properly. “Now. This heart to heart has made me hungry, and I want ice cream. You got cash?”

 

 

"What'cha up to, sweetheart?" 

It's late; Mikleo is glad he doesn't have school in the morning, since it's a Friday, or else he'd  _definitely_ die tomorrow. He's particularly incapable of functioning on any less than eight hours sleep, and he's already crossed the point of no return into midnight. He's glad Muse noticed him and was thoughtful enough to bring him hot chocolate instead of bothering him about being awake. It's something else about his mom that he's grateful for - you know, on top of single-handedly raising a snarky teenage boy.

"School stuff." He replies, setting the mug down on his bedside table. He's hunched over his laptop, eyes tired and strained from staring at the bright screen for so long. His legs ache, too, where he's been sat in the same position on his bed for the past four hours.

Muse busies herself with tidying Mikleo's floor. He keeps it clean enough, but he's as guilty of blindly kicking off his socks onto the floor as the next guy. "What kind of school stuff?" 

Mikleo groans into his hands. He's got at least twelve different tabs over - seven are vocal selections, different songs he can't chose between, and the others all have information on  _Soho Cinders_. He doesn't want to go into this blind if he's going to go into it at all.

"I'm being peer-pressured into auditioning for a musical." He grumbles, muffled by his fingers. "Some girl from the drama club I've never met before has Baader-Meinhof-ed me and now she's everywhere, and Edna thinks I should do it too."

"Count me in as a third!" Muse grins, plopping herself onto Mikleo's bed and sidling up to look at his laptop screen properly. "What show is it?"

He and his mother are  _kind of_ theatre buffs, even if Mikleo won't willingly put himself forward for theatre without the collective shoving of a very persistent redhead and his best friend. They saw a lot of fringe shows in Pendrago, which had a pretty big theatre district. Hell, they'd even named their cat after a character in a musical - one  _about_ cats - the same musical that had convinced Muse to get a kitten in the first place. Not that Mikleo was complaining, he thinks, absently scratching behind Victoria's ears with his free ear.

"Some British thing." Mikleo hasn't found a whole lot of material online, aside from a cast recording and an incredibly vague casting call from some other theatre. "Soho Cinders? I've never heard of it before now."

"News to me." Muse hums, looking over Mikleo's other tabs. "So you need to sing for your audition?"

"Yup." Given the lack of information he has, he hasn't got a clue what kind of song to pick. He hasn't got a character in mind since he doesn't know anything about them - he wonders how deliberate the show choice was, since it would be incredibly difficult for anyone to select a song that would earn them a specific character or to find the script online before doing a cold read. "And a cold read. And that's not counting whatever they might have planned for callbacks." He clears his throat quickly. "If I get a callback at all, that is."

"You're that confident, huh?" Muse doesn't miss it, though, and her lips quirk into a grin.

"Mom," Despite himself he smiles. "It's nothing. I don't really want to be a standout, really. It'll just get Rose and Edna off my back."

Muse hums, swatting Mikleo's hand away from the trackpad to look over the songs he's shortlisted herself. "I think it'll be good for you, sweetie! Get yourself out there! You're a talented boy. They'd be lucky to have you."

Mikleo sighs, leaning back onto his palms. Of course she would say that, she's his mother. It's her job to say things like that. "I don't think they take letters of recommendation from the auditionee's enthusiastic parents."

"They should!" Muse laughs, closing one of the tabs he's opened without a comment. "So, am I getting any sleep this week, or will I be listening to you sing every night until two in the morning? Not that you don't sound lovely, sweetie."

"Might stop by Edna's," Mikleo says, trying to regain control of his laptop before his mother closes too many of his tabs. She's alright whittled his song list down to three. "I haven't seen the shop before, and we live close enough that it's worth stopping by. Eizen has recording stuff so I can listen to myself back." He's down to one song by the time he gets his laptop back, and it's  _A Heart Full of Love_. He rolls his eyes. He hadn't even opened that tab himself. "I'm not a Marius, mom, I'm not doing Les Mis."

"Actually, I pegged you as more of a Eponine." Muse ruffles his hair, finally conceding control. He shoots her a grumpy stare. "Why don't you text in the morning? I'm sure Eizen would love to see you. We should invite them over for dinner! It's been a long time."

"One thing at a time, please." Mikleo snorts, reopening his old tabs. He still hasn't got a clue what to pick. "I think these guys probably hear enough  _On My Own_ to last a lifetime. I want to be a little more original."

"Speak for yourself! That's my favourite song!" Muse scolds, shouldering Mikleo gently. "I thought you didn't want to stand out?"

"I don't," Mikleo starts, fingers hovering awkwardly over his keyboard. Does he? "You know how I am, mom. I just don't want it to go bad."

Of course he's a perfectionist about this too - as much as he's avoiding the subject, he does  _love_ the medium, and he doesn't want to half ass something he's passionate about. If he did he wouldn't be here, still awake this late, trying to decide whether or not he should show off or stick with a comfortable range, or pitch shift something to be higher, or pick a song he genuinely likes so he can feel more enthusiastic about it.

"It won't," There's a pause, but it doesn't take long for Muse to reassure him with a smile. "It won't."

 

 

 

“Thanks for letting me use your equipment, Eizen.” Mikleo slips his shoes off by the door, carefully toeing them against the wall and out of the way. Edna unceremoniously throws her umbrella onto the floor.

“Honestly, any time, Mikleo. You’re practically family.” Eizen offers a smile, roughly shoving his hand into Edna’s hair as she barrels past him.

“Plus I was tired of watching you mope.” Edna offers unhelpfully. “Another minute of Emoleo and I might have lost it.”

“Your unending support continues to floor me.” Mikleo deadpans, shrugging his bag off alongside his shoes.

“You’re welcome.”

“Everything’s already set up for you in the back room downstairs, Mikleo.” Eizen interrupts, shooting Edna a Look.

Edna and Eizen shared a studio apartment above a store lot that Eizen owned; it wasn't the most spacious of places, but it definitely served it’s purpose. Eizen had renovated it into a record store, complete with a small performance space on the rare night when local bands would offer up a small concert, as well as a number of second-hand instruments and various other music equipment for sale.

“It's nice to finally see the shop,” Mikleo hums, looking over the rows of records Eizen has up, meticulously organised by genre and artist. “I wish I could have come by sooner.”

“Eizen’s put a lot of work into it.” Talking about her brother is one of the only times Edna actually _sounds_ happy about anything - Mikleo knows better than to call her emotionless, having known her long enough to know how to read her emotions, but it’s only when Eizen is the topic of conversation that she actually sounds it. He’s always wished for a relationship as significant as theirs - he's had Muse, sure, but there’s nothing quite like the bond siblings share. Especially not siblings like Edna and Eizen, who practically raised each other.

Eizen leads them through to the back room, looking sheepish at the attention. “It’s not much, but I hope we have everything you need for what you want to do, Mikleo.”

“It’s just vocal recordings.” Mikleo waves him off, watching with interest as Eizen somehow manages to identify a variety of plugs and cords from a mess in a box and get everything plugged in without so much as a second thought.

“I should get back to work.” Eizen says when he's done plugging in all the various recording equipment for Mikleo. “Feel free to stay as long as you want, but it's only takeout for dinner.”

“Thanks, Eizen.” Mikleo offers a smile in return to the one Eizen gives him before he leaves, leaving Edna and Mikleo alone in the back room.

“Ugh.” It’s all Mikleo can do not to faceplant directly into the wall as soon as he feels safe to start complaining. “I was really just hoping for a normal year. Remind me why I’m doing this?”

“It's high school, Meebo. You'd be hard-pressed to have a normal anything.” Edna tosses the microphone at him with a straight face.

“As if you can talk,” Mikleo retorts, ungracefully catching the microphone. “Didn't _you_ have a pretty normal junior year?”

“You'd be surprised how much drama there is in A Capella.” Edna sits herself down on top of one of the unused amps. “Or not, depending on how much you know about the bitching habits of teenage girls. Which isn't much. Considering how rampantly homosexual you are.”

Mikleo grunts, throwing a nearby drumstick at her her head. He misses.

“Enough whining, Mikleo. You’ll do fine.” Edna rolls her eyes, crossing her legs at the knee. “Maybe you'll even meet the man of your dreams this year.”

“Doubtful.” Mikleo snorts. “I’m not desperate.”

“Whatever you say.” Edna uses the same voice Muse does when she grills him on finding a boyfriend. He doesn’t appreciate it. “Where’s your songbook? Lemme see.”

“You’ll help me get ready for the audition?” Mikleo asks nervously, trying to look nonchalant about the prospect as he hands her the book. Honestly, Edna is one of the few people he’s ever felt comfortable performing in front of. The very thought of her being there to support him, in her own way, was comforting. “Since _you’re_ the one forcing me to do it, it’s only fair.”

“I’m thinking of auditioning myself.” Edna says, flatly. She scoffs at Mikleo’s shocked expression. “One more year of A Capalla and I might actually scream. Might as well. But, yes, I’ll help you audition, Meebo. Don’t think I’ll miss out on potential blackmail fodder for the world.”

In Edna’s own, horrifying way, Mikleo knows it’s meant as reassurance. “Thanks, Edna.” He sighs, flicking the microphone on. “It means a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, you're sappy. Are you going to get to practising or not?”

Mikleo tightens his lips into a straight line, runs the program on the laptop, and starts, his nerves returning full force just in time to start singing.

 

 

Mikleo _really_ doesn’t want to be here.

He doesn’t think he’s _actually_ step foot in the school’s drama studio before, and it’s no wonder. It’s the smallest studio he’s seen in his life, with barely enough space for 100 seats in the stalls by the stage; there’s a balcony with more seats, but it’s so crammed with props and set pieces that he doubts anyone would fit up there. How do they even rehearse for anything in here? 

He spots Rose over in the distance and he really, _really_ doesn’t want to be here.

“So you decided to come?” Rose says with a grin, swaggering over to him without a care in the world. She looks smug. “Got an audition slot and everything?”

Mikleo pulls on the strings of his sweater, tightening up the hood enough to hide his chin in it, and by extension, his pout. “It’s in two minutes.”

“Break a leg,” Rose whacks him on the shoulder with far more force than necessary. “You’ll do fine! They look pretty scary, but they’re like, softies. I managed to make Lucas cry.”

That’s actually not comforting at all, but Mikleo doesn’t say as much. He thinks he saw someone _else_ crying as they scooted at maximum speed out of the drama studio while he was waiting outside, but he doesn’t mention that either.

“Well, I’ll see you around!” She says with a wave, probably deeming Mikleo too uninteresting to talk to when he starts tugging on his sleeves instead of talking.

“Thanks.” Is all he does say, flinching out of the way when Rose shoulders past him to leave. She joins some guy that Mikleo didn’t notice hovering by the doorway – her boyfriend, probably, he considers, if the way she leaps at him like they don’t go to the same school and hasn’t seen him in years is anything to go by. Mikleo hardly thinks to give him a second glance.

Neither of them stick around – they weren’t allowed to. Thankfully the drama club had the decency to make the auditions private - none of this high school musical bullshit where anyone could just peep in on you while you embarrassed yourself, but somehow that did nothing for his nerves. Besides, the walls here seemed thin - he wouldn't be surprised if Rose is going to have her ear up against the door the whole time he's in here.

He peeks over to the stage, where the panel of judges are waiting. No teachers, he thinks with a please sigh. Not that he would complain if it were someone like Lailah, but anyone else? As it goes, he doesn’t recognise anyone in the front row, which is horrifying enough by itself, but to top it off they all look _way_ too old to be in high school, even for seniors.

“Mikleo Rulay?” The tallest asks him as soon as he’s in sight, a chiselled looking guy with tidily styled chocolate-brown hair and more stubble than should be legal on a high schooler. He's sort of hot.

“That’s me.” Mikleo responds with as much confidence as he can muster. He tries not to be a standout; if he keeps quiet and simple, he doubts they’ll give him a second thought. He just wants to appease Edna and Muse and get this over with. 

He hopes the smile he receives isn’t because the senior had caught on to his nerves. Or his mental boner. “I’m Eguille Sparrow, president of the drama club and the show’s director.” He gestures to the senior to his left, a sturdy, scary dude with slicked back hair tied into a loose ponytail and, perhaps more horrifying, a long scar across his nose. God knows who he got in a fight with for _that_. Looked like a tiger did it. “This is Lucas Woods, my co-president and stage manager.” Then, the other senior on his right, a much shorter, sturdier man than the other two, and also far trendier. He's one of the few people at this school with a fashion sense, it seems. He’s got a keyboard on the other side of him. “And this is Rosh Bone, our musical director.”

Each of the other two seniors wave in turn, and to Mikleo’s horror, pull out clipboards and pens in complete sync with each other. 

“You have the choice of starting with the cold read or showing us your song first.” Lucas tells him, scribbling something down on his own clipboard. Mikleo just stares at him blankly.

“Here’s a thought.” Rosh leans back in his chair with a tired expression. “I know this is our fourth day doing this and we know what’s going on, but I think new people might appreciate a rundown on what’s happening.” He turns to face Mikleo with that same expression, which is even worse for his nerves. “Is this your first time auditioning for anything?”

Mikleo nods, clutching his song book tighter in his fingers. He’d done his research, looked up everything he would need to know, but nothing prepared him for _this_. He feels so awfully uneasy that he’s forgotten all the advice every website had given him about relaxing and breathing.

Lucas looks sheepish for a second at being called out, but seems to regain his confidence fairly quickly. “The performance part of the audition is relatively straightforward, presuming you have already had time to practice.” He explains, nodding at the song book in Mikleo’s hands. It’s becoming more crumpled by the second. “For the cold read, we’ll give you a minute to read a segment of a script, and then perform it to us.”

It sounds horrifying. Mikleo has never done any acting in his life. He’s read up on cold reads, of course; he’d known from the poster that he’d have to do one, but again, no amount of reading adds up to actual experience doing this kind of thing.

“I’d like to do the cold read first.” He decides, thinking it best to get the part he’s most nervous about out of the way; that way, doing something he’s actually rehearsed will seem much less nerve-wracking by comparison. That meaning, these seniors will get a better impression of him if he leaves doing something less shit than if he ended on tripping over everything he says.

Eguille offers a sheet out of paper with a smile. “This is an extract from _Soho Cinders._ I’m sure you’ve done some of your own research -” Thankfully, Eguille doesn’t offer Mikleo an opportunity to so much as look embarrassed knowing that he had failed to find anything, “- but to give you a brief run-down, _Soho Cinders_ is a modern retelling of the classic Cinderella story. In this version, a young rent boy named Robbie ends up involved in an illicit love affair with an aspiring politician in the running for mayor, James Prince.”

Mikleo nods, taking the sheet from the older student. 

“You don’t need to memorise it.” Rosh tells him, perusing an identical sheet that he has on his clipboard. “One of us will read the other part. It’s nothing to worry about it, so take this minute to read it, and then we’ll go over it with you.”

He _says_ it’s nothing to worry about, but Mikleo’s still pretty worried.

“You’ll be reading the part of Robbie, a young college student.” Eguille explains. The lines give nothing away to how Mikleo is supposed to behave – he knew he’d have to pull it out of his ass a little, but the sparsity of directions is more than a little worrying. “Lucas will be reading the part of Velcro. He won’t be emoting too much, so don’t use his part as an emotional cue – just perform the line how you think it should be performed.”

“Let us know when you’re ready, but you’ll have no more than a minute to read.” Rosh adds. The three of them don’t make an effort not to stare when they fall silent, and it’s overwhelmingly difficult to read the part with six expectant eyes fixed firmly on him. He tries not to bite his lip – it’s already starting to crack and sting from a morning chock-full of being nervously nibbled.

He utilises the minute he gets, though; he needs it, since his eyes are refusing to properly focus on the words. He doesn’t want to be staring down at the sheet – that doesn’t look good – but he doesn’t think he can memorise the piece either. It’s not long, but it’s not so short that he only has one or two lines to read, and on top of that he has no idea how he should play the character. He’s desperately hoping it’ll just come to him naturally. It’s pretty wishful thinking for someone who has never done any acting whatsoever. 

“I’m ready.” He says when he thinks the minute is just about to end. The three seniors pick up their pens again, and Eguille even scribbles something. It’s not comforting.

“Okay, Lucas will start you off.” Eguille nods at Lucas, who has an identical copy of the script in his hands.

Mikleo doesn’t expect it to start as suddenly as it does, but Lucas’ eyes are steeled on him immediately. “Where’d you get that money from?” It’s a very, very dry read of the line; Mikleo knows he’s not supposed to get any prompting, but damn. “Are you still seeing that guy?”

“Yes-” Mikleo says, through gritted teeth, trying to sound exasperated. “...And no.” There goes the only part of the script he’d managed to memorise.

“Which?”

“It’s complicated.” 

“He must be loaded. Don’t screw this one up.” Lucas must be an actor, Mikleo thinks, because as much as Eguille said he wouldn’t be emoting, he’s starting to emote a little. “Does he have a brother? You know, without the gay gene.”

“Don’t be so desperate!” Mikleo gets the feeling these two characters are good friends, and tries to sound fond. He uses the voice he usually reserves for joking around with his mother. “Mr. Right will come by one day. Now ‘Cro, if I was straight, I would go out with you like a shot.”

“If I’ll have ya! Nah, ain’t gonna happen. If I go to the West End, that's me. How hard can it be? I just wanna settle down.”

“Velcro, we share the same dream… I just want to wake up next to the same man for the next 30 years.” Ah, a gay role, yes. Mikleo was born for this. It helps that it sounds like words he has actually said to Edna, probably once when Eizen had let them get drunk and they actually talked to each other about boys.

“So do I! Someone to tell me I’m doing alright.”

“Someone to tell me when I’m being a twat.”

“You’re being a twat.”

Mikleo adds a humoured snort for good measure. “Yeah, but not you!”

It’s a pretty abrupt end to the scene, but that _is_ where the script stops - marked by a line right before the start of a song - and Lucas isn’t talking back to him any more. He knows it’s not commonplace to get applause or any recognition whatsoever following any part of an audition, but the silence and lack of emotional response from the seniors fills Mikleo’s stomach with dread. He thought he did okay, at least. The procedure is far too clinical for how much of himself he’s having to present to these strangers.

“Now, we’d like to hear the piece you’ve prepared. How long have you been singing?” Eguille offers him some emotion, at least, it the form of a smile – even if it does seem a little put on. He has been going at this audition thing for a little while, Mikleo supposes. He himself would have stopped smiling three days ago.

“About five years,” Mikleo shuffles on his feet. “I took classes in middle school. None in the past two years but I practice sometimes.”

“Quite a while, then.” Rosh says, thoughtful. “Do you know your voice type?”

“Tenor. I think.”

“You think?”

“It’s been a while.” Mikleo answers stiffly. His stomach drops lower when Rosh starts scribbling on his paper without another word.

“We’ll test your voice range first.” Rosh explains after a long pause, turning on the keyboard. Despite how intimidating he looked, his calm was far more reassuring than Mikleo would have first anticipated. “I’ll lead you through the notes. Let me know if I’m going too fast.”

Mikleo lets him take him up and down through the keys, trying not to let Eguille nor Lucas’ furious scribbling put him off.

“That’s a pretty impressive falsetto.” Rosh’s compliment eases Mikleo’s nerves a little. “We get a lot of guys come in claiming to be tenors, but you’re the first to manage that high. Classically trained?”

Mikleo shakes his head. “Modern. Pop and rock.”

“What are you going to sing for us?” Eguille asks, leaning back in his chair. Mikleo feels his anxiety return at full force. Like, crashing into him like a truck bad. He wills himself not to throw up.

“It’s, uh.” He paused to collect himself; he’d managed well so far, he thinks, no point in tripping over his words now. “More Than Survive. Last chorus.”

“Ah, _Be More Chill_!” Lucas grins. “A man after my own heart.”

“Would you like a starting note, or are you okay without?” Rosh asks, fingers hovering over the keys of the keyboard.

“I’ll be alright without.” Mikleo says, trying not to sigh with relief at Rosh’s brief kind smile before switching off the keyboard. With that, he’s leaning back in his chair just as eagerly as the other two, waiting for Mikleo to begin.

Mikleo takes a deep breath. It’s been an awfully long time since he’s been up on a stage to perform _anything_ , even longer since he’d purposefully sung in front of any kind of audience that wasn’t family. A few more deep breaths, and he brings shaky hands up to hold the microphone stand, if only to give them something to do other than hang limp at his sides. _Now or never. Do or die_. Willing the shaking in his limbs to end and the flush on his face to cool, he allows himself one last deep breath – and he begins.

 

 _I'm never gonna be the cool guy,_  
_I'm more the one who's left out._  
_Of all the characters at school,_  
_I am not the one who the story's about._  
_Why can't someone just help me out?_  
_And teach me how to thrive..._  
_Help me do more than survive!_

 

He wants to squeeze his eyes shut, avoid the gazes that are so intently staring at him while he sings. To his own credit he didn’t pick an easy song – God forbid he let himself show off a little bit – and it’s taking a lot of concentration to avoid letting his voice crack on the more plaintive notes, but he manages okay. He thinks, anyway.

The second part of his piece if mostly belted, which means he has to back away from the microphone a bit to stop any feedback from disturbing his concentration. Not that it isn’t already pretty shaky – given that he went into this audition not wanting to make an impact on anyone, he suddenly feels like he _wants_ to stand out – like he _wants_ to make an impression.

 

_More than survive…  
More than survive!_

 

Mikleo _knows_ none of this part of the audition is about his acting now - he's already got that part out of the way - it’s about how he can sing, but it’s so much easier to hold the notes when he’s dramatic about it. It’s like slutdropping to Queen covers in the music room – the hand at his chest and the bouncing leg is all about prolonging his notes, that’s all. Not like he’s _enjoying_ himself or anything.

 

 _If this was an apocalypse_  
_I would not need any tips_  
_In how to stay alive_  
_But since the zombie army’s yet to descend_  
_And the period is going to end_  
_I’m just tryin’ my best to pass the test_  
_And survive..._  
_Survive!_

 

He finishes to a silent panel of judges, feeling decidedly sweaty and very uncomfortable.

He can’t tell if the silence is shock or just the standard blasé of anyone running musical auditions. There’s no further scribbling – Mikleo notes that there was none of that during his performance, either – and Eguille’s arms are crossed rigidly against his chest. Lucas is leaning so far back in his chair it looks like he might fall out of it at any second.

Just as the silence feels like it’s gone on for too long and Mikleo is ready to sprint to safety, Rosh clears his throat. Mikleo thinks he sees a grin emerging on Lucas’ face, one that Eguille is trying hi best not to mirror. It’s hard to tell if they’re making fun of him, or thought he was good, or pitied him, or...

“Thank you, Mikleo. Emails regarding callbacks will be sent out over the weekend. We hope to see you soon.”

And without another word, Mikleo is dismissed, and that’s that.

  
◘ ◘ ◘

 

 

"What do you think, Eguille?" Lucas says around a mouthful of Big Mac. "That's all the shortlisting done?"

Eguille looks thoughtful, swirling his ketchup with a fry. 

"You know better than to ask." Rosh rolls his eyes. "If we left him to it he'd have a cast list by three in the morning."

"C'mon, dude," Lucas leans back with a smirk. "You wouldn't shut up about how no one was a fit for Robbie and now you're like a shut clam. Found the guy?"

Eguille does look up at that, with a knowing smile, but doesn't say anything.

"Lots of potential Velcros." Rosh interrupts, shooting Lucas a glare. "A couple good fits for Marilyn. What about the sisters?"

"Shortlisted." is all Eguille tells them.

"And Robbie?" Lucas presses, earning another glare.

Eguille leans right back in his chair and takes a very, very pointed bite out of his ketchup-laden fry. "I've got my Robbie."

 

 

◘ ◘ ◘

 

  
  
**TO:** mikleo_rulay@ladylake.sch.us  
**SUBJECT:** Callbacks

Dear Mikleo Rulay,

Congratulations! In receiving this email, I am happy to inform you that you have been selected by the Ladylake Drama Society for the SOHO CINDERS callback auditions!

Callbacks are taking place in the drama studio starting at 3:45 this coming Monday. We will be starting warm ups at 3:50, so be sure to arrive with plenty of time. No extra materials will be required - bring yourselves and some sensible shoes for moving around in. You will be singing and dancing with us for about 2 hours; following the session we will be hosting a social hour (with pizza!) for a chance to get to know each other.

If you are going to be late or are unable to attend, please inform myself, Rosh or Lucas as soon as you can. We hope to see you on Monday!

Many thanks!  
Eguille Sparrow  
Director

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikleo's audition song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLjfLp3uJFY (from 6:31)  
> It's more a voice headcanon thing, i have songs for everyone else if anyone cares 
> 
> srry this chapter sucks its establishing
> 
>  
> 
> _Join the party on Old Compton Street_  
>  _Feel the pavement throb beneath your feet_  
>  _Take a seat_  
>  _Watch the show!_


	2. Wishing for the Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUILD A. SQUID. make your own squid and set. it free. BUILD YOUR. SQUID. FIND YOUR. SQUID { MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM } YOUR SQUID

As punctual as ever, Mikleo makes his appearance in the drama studio at 3:44 on the dot.

Receiving the callback email had been met with a reasonable amount of disbelief on his part, some excited yelling on his mother’s, and a weekend full of terrified research on ‘how to learn a dance in a single hour without dying immediately’. Obviously the latter had been unsuccessful, given only a weekend to figure it out, but, hell, he tried his best.

The drama studio looks a lot more crowded than it did on Thursday; there’s at least a couple dozen people tittering around the room, and while it’s still not nearly enough to fill the seats, it’s definitely enough to be intimidating. What’s more, some of these people look sort of competitive – there’s a gleam in the eyes unique to people that are willing to kick ass to get what they want. Mikleo is very familiar with it – it’s a look he sees in his mother, and in Edna, and in Eizen, and more recently, in Rose – who, by the by, has been making regular appearances in his text inbox. Mikleo is tentative to drop the notion that she has some kind of ulterior motive with talking to him.

He’d made a point of not even leaving any of her numerous texts on ‘read’ over the weekend - not that it had deterred her at all.

“Hey, you.” Mikleo is shocked out of his stupor quite suddenly by a familiar drawl and umbrella themed assault. “So you got in.”

“Edna,” Mikleo turns to face whoever had surprised him, thrilled to see that it wasn’t Rose like he had originally feared. He’s sure he’ll face her at some point this afternoon, but the longer it holds off, the better. “You too?”

“Yup.” She looks flat and uninterested.

“Cool.” Mikleo takes a minute to breath. Of course Edna would be here; even if her acting was – and he was assuming here – less than emotive, she _had_ been singing for pretty much her entire life, and was damned good at it to boot. “Wanna sit?”

Edna nods, letting Mikleo make the decision on where to park themselves. Keen to be noticed, most students were wriggling their ways to the front; leaving Mikleo plenty of back-seat options for himself and Edna. Edna stretches herself over two seats so no one can sit next to her on her other side and leans her head on Mikleo’s shoulder with a sort of resignation.

“Nervous?” Mikleo knows the answer; Edna doesn’t get nervous, not in the way other people seem to do. Her resolute strength in the face of adversity would be admirable if Mikleo didn’t already know how terrifying she can be.

Predictably, Edna shakes her head. It’s a tired motion; he wishes he could be as blasé about this as she is. “No. Are you?”

“Terrified.” Mikleo huffs, leaning his head back onto Edna’s. There’s only companionable silence after that. It does little to ease his nerves, but a comforting presence is always welcome.

Edna has always been that to him – a comforting presence, even when she’s dragging him around, teasing him, pushing his buttons, whatever else she manages to do that gets on Mikleo’s nerves. It’s a _constant_ getting on his nerves, and that’s nice to have, especially when everything else is changing all around him. He can count on her to be there, head shoved into his shoulder in a way that makes him as uncomfortable as she can possibly manage, citrus-scented hair tickling his nose.

3:50 rolls around horrifyingly slow as more people filter in. Most are girls, both surprising and unsurprising at once. There must be about 30 people here, he thinks, himself and Edna notwithstanding.

The whispering and muttering grinds to a halt as soon as Eguille takes up a commanding presence onstage, naturally flanked by his groupies. He doesn’t even need to clear his throat to get everyone’s attention, and, well, who wouldn’t look at him? He’s sure he’s not speaking for himself when Mikleo thinks he would tap that.

“First of all -” His voice just naturally reverberates without the need for a microphone, which is pretty cool. “- Congratulations for making it to the second round of auditions! We’re really pleased to see so much interest in our show, and while we’d love to give everyone a lead role, we only have so many to give out. Our goal for today is to get a handle on what everyone’s talents are, understand who is best suited for what and also for you guys to get a feel for what we’re expecting from you.”

There’s some excited muttering, but it’s short lived; turns out Eguille can silence a room with just the wave of a hand. It is a pretty nice hand.

“We’d like to start off with the dance auditions.” He speaks again. “Since there’s quite a few of you, we’ve divided you up into groups of 10 and split you up. The first group will be with me in the dance studio – that’s Alisha, Uno, Sirel, Talfryn, Natalie, Symonne, Edna, Mason and Dezel.” Mikleo has never heard of any of those names before, besides Edna’s. He doesn’t recognise any of the names in the second group, either, the one assigned to Rosh – he’s more than a little bitter that it means he’s going to be without Edna in a group of strangers. He’d take Edna’s abuse over a stranger’s abuse anyday.

“And that leaves the rest of you in my group.” Lucas grins out at the group. “We’ll be staying right in here, so come up on stage as soon as everyone else has cleared out.”

“Good luck, champ.” Edna gives Mikleo a firm shove to the leg as she gets up. It’s hardly comforting, clearly an excuse to get her own leverage rather than reassure him at all, but he accepts it with a quite “you too” that he knows she doesn’t really need.

It takes a few minutes for everyone else to filter off to various places, Mikleo remaining in his seat while he waits for the mania to die down. The groups they’re left with are miniscule; he’s absolutely terrified to dance with such a small collection of individuals, having never danced in the professional sense of the word in his life; he squirms uncomfortably at the thought. And it only gets worse from there.

“Mikleo!” Uh oh, Mikleo thinks, _I know that voice_. His worst fears are coming true. He might as well just crawl under one of the chairs and die right now.

Of course it’s Rose, of course she’d be here, with the boy from yesterday in tow – who is looking an awful lot like a lost dog, blindly following her with this petulant look – and she’s waving, enthusiastically, slowly encroaching into Mikleo’s (admittedly quite large) personal bubble. What’s worse is that the guy she’s with is sort of good-looking, all olive complexion and messy hair, and God knows that handsome boys in his personal space is just a recipe for Awkward Mikleo Dot Com Forward Slash Homosexual.

“You made it! I mean, of course you did. You sound awesome.” She’s grinning, line of sight drifting inconspicuously over to where Edna was leaving the room, umbrella in tow. “Was that your girlfriend?”

Mikleo snorts, actually snorts, and gives Rose an incredulous look. Edna? His girlfriend? “ _Absolutely_ not.” He clears his throat, quickly, realising how bad that sounds, considering she’d been practically laying on top of him not two minutes ago. “Edna is like my sister. And a senior. So. Not for me, no.”

The look Rose gives him is indescribable; it’s somewhere between surprise, probably because that’s the most Mikleo has ever emoted in front of her, and something like amusement, and another emotion he can’t place. She exchanges a look with the boy that’s with her (boyfriend? He’s still not sure) and then bodily thrusts said boy towards him, so much so that he almost stumbles right into Mikleo and knocks them both over.

She does so with hardly much more than a “Hey, have you met Sorey?” and then she’s gone, leaving Mikleo and Mr. Kicked Dog – who is suddenly looking a lot less kicked - with little more than a hearty pat on her friend’s shoulder.

He’s almost a whole head taller than Mikleo is, which is frightening on it’s own. What’s worse is that because he has to look down to look at Mikleo when he starts speaking, he’s peeking through these messy chocolate bangs, and it’s sort of adorable. _Bad Mikleo_ , he chastises himself, trying to erase any unnecessary thoughts. _Don’t be a homewrecker._

“Sorry about that! Rose can be...” He’s wearing a sheepish smile. “Forceful? Sorry. Hi. I’m Sorey.”

Sorey is kind of blinding to look at directly, so Mikleo pretends he’s interested in the people tripping over themselves to leave the room to avoid meeting his eyes. “I noticed.” He retorts, crossing his arms so Sorey can’t see his fingers twitch. “I’m Mikleo.”

“That’s a strange name.” Sorey backs up, which Mikleo is pretty grateful for, because having him so close was sort of distracting. Not to mention that it seems to only be their group left, now, and he’s not sure hanging around to chat will give Lucas the best impression of their work ethic.

“And Sorey isn’t?” Mikleo shoots him a side-glare, sliding out of the stalls on the other side. “So… You’re Rose’s…?”

“Best friend.” Sorey interjects with a smile. There’s also this very pointed, knowing look involved, which Mikleo chooses to ignore completely. “We grew up together. Close as siblings.”

“Right.” Mikleo thinks about his own relationship with Edna, and understands the situation much better – especially the part where Rose drags this poor guy around everywhere and he looks like he’s sulking. That part, he relates to.

“She has a boyfriend.” Sorey adds, almost as an afterthought. He sounds protective; his voice takes on a slightly deeper quality, something more serious.

Mikleo snorts at how dour he looks. He supposes the query might have made it seem that way, that he was showing an interest, but he’s surprised Sorey is acting so protective of Rose. This is considering that Rose was the one getting all up in Mikleo’s grill, not the other way around. “Did you think I was interested?”

“Not really,” Sorey’s expression softens, almost as though he hadn’t been stone-faced at all. “Just in case.”

“I’m alright, thank you.” Mikleo gives Sorey a once-over – of course he tries to be subtle about it, but there’s not really any way to _be_ subtle about checking someone out – and is surprised to find that he looks… Well, sort of ripped. There are some pretty nice arms poking out of that polo shirt. He didn’t think _swole_ people did things like this in high school, but he’s been proven wrong before. “You know, you don’t really peg me as the theatre type.”

“I like theatre,” Sorey doesn’t sound particularly defensive over it, so Mikleo can relax about possibly offending the guy. “Big fan of Mamma Mia, actually. I’m not much of an actor, but Rose says I’d make a good Sophie.”

He’s clearly joking, and somewhat succeeds in getting a proper laugh out of Mikleo, which he seems pleased about. Who wouldn’t giggle even a _little_ at the thought of this guy, muscles and all, singing _Honey Honey_ into a hairbrush? “If you don’t like acting, why’d you audition?” He can’t help but ask; after all, it’s not every day you stumble upon. Well. A guy like Sorey, a place like this.

 _That_ makes Sorey shrink a little – not in a way that seems offended, but more like he’s shy about it. “Well! It’s not like I _don’t_ like it, it’s just...” He fumbles over his words, just the same as he’s fumbling over the hem of his shirt. “Rose made me do it.”

Mikleo immediately relates. “Ah. Me too.” Sorey relaxes visibly at that, slumping back into his shoulders. He’s expressive, Mikleo has noticed; he’s never seen someone quite so capable of shifting through so many emotions in one go. It makes him easy to read, on the one hand – he seems like the type of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve. Mikleo isn’t surprised someone like that could be easily manipulated by someone like Rose. “She’s quite… persuasive, isn’t she?”

“For sure! I mean, I was interested to begin with? But...” Sorey looks hesistant again. “I don’t really have time for something like this between school and track. So this is kinda just for fun.”

Fun? Mikleo internally scoffs. Externally, he just makes a confused face; he can’t imagine finding this genuinely _fun_. Maybe after they’ve settled, but he’s not sure his nerves will ever dissipate enough for him to genuinely enjoy the Audition Experience. “Not scary for you, then?”

“A little bit.” Sorey’s admission comes with a hesitant smile. “But it’s a good scary, I think? I like it. Why, are you scared?”

“No!” Mikleo doesn’t mean to sound so indignant when he says it. Sorey obviously catches on because he chokes back a laugh; his smile is more natural now. “I mean, a little bit… This is my first time doing anything like this.”

“Mine, too.” Would you believe it, Sorey cycles through another expression when he says it; there’s relief, like he let out a subconscious breath. Were there really not that many people here who were new to this? Mikleo doesn’t think he could compete with a whole bunch of theatre kids. “Rose won’t stop calling me a ‘theatre virgin’, so I wouldn’t tell her, if I were you! Not unless you want weird looks in the halls.”

“You don’t seem like someone who gets weird looks in the halls.”

“You’d be surprised!” Sorey gives Mikleo this knowing grin that looks suspiciously like something Mikleo has seen on a DreamWorks promotional poster a hundred times, like he’s up to something bad, one eyebrow raised, lips curved into a half-smile. “It’s impossible to hang out with Rose and not get noticed.”

Mikleo isn’t convinced that’s the _only_ reason people would look at him – not making a face like that. Not that he’s about to say anything on that front. “That, I believe.”

It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Sorey, which is odd, given the impression he first gave off. That is, he’s a wide-shouldered, athletic sort (not that Mikleo has paid any more mind to his biceps, God no) wearing a school-issued polo shirt that only members of sports teams wear – track, he’d said? - so by all means, Mikleo would usually avoid someone who looks like him. But he’s warm and inviting, and conversation with him flows easily. Mikleo thinks they might get along, given the chance to talk more.

“Would you two like to end the mother’s meeting and get over here?” Lucas barks from the stage, causing Mikleo to yelp in surprise. Sorey jolts upright where he stands – Mikleo hadn’t even noticed how he’d hunched over to be level with him.

“Sorry!” Sorey calls out, sheepish, reflexively scratching behind his neck and running his hand through his - already messy - hair. His second apology is private, to Mikleo only, with a ducked head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sorey brightens instantly at the apology, those welcoming eyes staring at Mikleo for just a second longer before he ducks out of the stalls and jogs onto the stage. Mikleo can’t help but watch him go, while he’s free to look – he watches Sorey nearly crash into Rose, share some kind of exciting conversation which ends in her bumping their hips together, followed by Rose looking up and giving Mikleo some horrifying, cheeky look.

He’s suddenly not sure he took enough time to emotionally prepare himself for the next two hours.

 

 

The dance auditions aren’t nearly as bad as Mikleo was anticipating; Lucas, as aggressive a teacher he was, took the group through the steps of the dance slowly, gave everyone a chance to keep up and, most importantly, only expected them to learn a short routine. Plus, Rose and Sorey concentrate, so they don’t bother Mikleo at first.

"The biggest dance number in the show is a tango, so we're going to focus on a simple latin piece today." Lucas told them, wasting no time in setting up a speaker. "It's not too fast, so you'll only have to remember about 30 seconds of routine. This is all about seeing how you work and learn so don’t worry about messing up."

Mikleo isn't sure he can learn any number of steps in an hour and a half, but he follows along with the stretches and warm-ups like he’s confident. He recognises the song they’re dancing to as _Roxanne_ , which is pretty great, because as much as he doesn’t like Moulin Rouge he can get behind doing a saucy tango to that song.

And it's definitely saucy, that's for sure, Mikleo thinks as he watches Lucas demonstrate the movements. Like, is it normal for a grown ass looking man to be able to bend in that way? It would probably be arousing if Mikleo wasn't so impressed and sort of jealous. He kind of wishes Lucas was wearing something tighter. Uh, he means, he doesn’t actually, but it would probably look nicer. Cooler, he means.  
  
It's sort of thrilling, because Mikleo has never properly danced before, definitely not like this, and he's feeling sort of sexy when he copies Lucas’ motions. He, for one, had not neglected to wear something form-fitting, mostly because he didn’t look good in baggy clothes, but he’s sure that ‘black and tight’ fits the mood of the song and the dance that’s going with it. Being all gangly teenage boy limbs actually came in useful for something too, it turns out; it’s so much easier to emphasise the sweeps and glides of his legs when there’s so much leg to work with.

Lucas even shoots him a compliment, a loud “Good work, Mikleo!” over his shoulder while Mikleo executes a particularly exaggerated forward boleo. He tries not to smile, but probably fails at it. It’s the first time he’s managed to be naturally good at something and dammit if he isn’t going to bask in the glory of it. And did he mention that he feels sort of sexy?

That’s just the start, though; the first half of the routine is all solo, which is fine, because everyone concentrates on themselves or Lucas depending on what the situation calls for rather than on each other. Mikleo _does_ manage to catch a glance in Rose’s direction, where she’s intensely focused on a sultry twist even as she giggles as someone trips over in front of her.

But _then_ Lucas barks out the command, “Partner up!” and that’s when Mikleo gets sort of worried.

“Find yourself a partner – I don’t care who – and get into position. Lead, right on your partner’s back, other hold your partner’s hand between you. Follower, left hand on your partner’s shoulder. We’ll run through some basic steps when you’re all ready.” Mikleo briefly wonders how Lucas is going to show them without a partner of his own, but it’s of little concern; he only knows Rose and Sorey, and he’s not sure he could dance with either of them. Not like this.

A quick look at them both sees them having a hushed conversation – that’s one issue out of the way, Mikleo supposes, but then he remembers that means he’s got to dance with a stranger, which is possibly on equal footing in terms of undesirability. He’s verging on panic mode when he hears someone call his name out from somewhere behind him – when he turns, he sees Sorey out of the corner of his eye, partnered up with some girl he’s never seen before, getting into position. Rose’s impending approach doesn’t register to him until a second later.

“Told ya that you’ve got dancers legs.” She saunters over to him with a smug expression, immediately guiding his hands into position before he has a chance to protest. “’Course, I already saw that you’re pretty flexible. Never seen a guy slutdrop like that before.”

Mikleo flushes bright red. He doesn’t know why he expected Rose to let that go. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Sorey shooting Rose this hurt look – had he wanted to dance with her? “Why aren’t you with Sorey?”

“He won’t want to dance with me.” Rose has a fire in her eyes Mikleo can’t describe. Indescribably emotions seem to be a recurring theme with her - should he be afraid? She adjusts herself per Lucas’ instructions, practically manhandling Mikleo to rearrange him so that they are standing close enough to dance properly. He knows it’s what they’re supposed to do but it’s still sort of awkward, like getting all up and personal with a sister or cousin. He swallows a complaint.

“And you wanted to dance with me?” He supposes he was doing pretty well up until now; he’d proved to himself, at least, that he was capable of learning, and wasn’t all that clumsy either. He’d pick himself as a partner if he were Rose, probably.

“Nah.” Rose doesn’t stop grinning for even a second. “Saved you from dancing with a stranger though, didn’t I?” Mikleo watches with a kind of fascination as Rose winds her arm around his back and sets his hand on her shoulder.

He scrunches his face up in confusion. “You put my hands in the following position.”

“What, you think you get to lead just ‘cause you’re a dude?” Rose barks out a laugh. “No way! Follow my lead, rookie!”

 

 

Mikleo decides that dancing is exhausting. Dancing with Rose, specifically, is exhausting. Any misconceptions that she was trying to ever get in his pants are _gone_. No, she’s out for _blood_.

 

 

The rest of the callbacks go by pretty smoothly, after that; everyone’s worn out from dancing, Eguille and his posse included, so they settle for singing as a chorus along to a song that everyone would already know. (It’s ‘Toxic’ by Britney Spears.)

Mikleo had escaped from Rose long enough after being traumatised by her aggressive tango that he’d been able to reconvene with Edna, looking just as unruffled as always (but mildly amused at Mikleo’s disheveled appearance - she's a terrible person) in the seat she’d occupied before having to leave earlier.

“Dance go well?” She asks, half knowingly. She immediately stretches herself over the two seats again, as though she’d never left.

“Shut up.” is his reply. Everything still aches.

The resounding Britney chorus that follows doesn’t sound half bad, and even though he knows it isn’t the point, he lets his voice fade off into the background. No need to be a standout when it’s everyone singing at once and it sounds the same whether he’s putting in effort or not – Edna seems to have the same idea, since he can barely hear her, and she usually manages to be quite loud considering her small stature. On the other hand, he can pick out Rose’s voice distinctly, even without having heard her sing before. Of course Rose would be the type to sing that loud – probably without even trying.

He sort of wishes he can hear what Rose sounds like without thirty other teenagers trying to out-sing her, because she sounds like she’s pretty good – better, even, if she wasn’t practically shouting along. He can hear a decent soprano hidden in there somewhere, underneath the excited yelling that accompanies any teenage girl belting out a well-practised “I’M ADDICTED TO YOU DON’TCHA KNOW THAT YOU’RE TOXIC -’

He’s becoming very tired of that chorus very quickly.

They run through Toxic all of four times, which is more times than Mikleo _ever_ thought he’d have to sing Toxic in a row, until most people’s voices are hoarse from trying to belt the chorus and Eguille calls an end to the audition. He seems content, so Mikleo supposes it was the natural end of the two hour session.

He and Edna get up to leave when someone is trying to get his attention – sounds like Lucas’ voice – with a series of dramatic shouts of his name.

“Mikleo? Can we borrow you for a second?” It’s Eguille that motions him over politely in the end. He’s got Sorey and Rose in tow, which is a little worrying - he’d thought he was free. Still, it’s Eguille, and he’s the man in charge, and he’s hot, so Mikleo has no business ignoring him.

Edna leaves with no more than a goodbye. Once again, what a bitch. He makes a mental note to chastise her via text as soon as he manages to escape Rose’s eventual clutches.

Still, Mikleo makes his way to the stage, avoiding Rose’s gaze specifically – she’s _still_ got that devilish look she wore when they were dancing together, the one that screamed that she was secretly plotting something heinous like murdering him in his sleep or drawing on his face in sharpie. She doesn’t actually speak, which is a relief.

“I’d like you two to do another cold read, if that’s alright.” Eguille explains in her place, waving three identical pieces of paper in the air in front of them. He doesn’t seem to notice Mikleo’s discomfort – at least, he doesn’t give away that he does. “We haven’t had anyone read scenes between these two characters yet, and we just want to know how it sounds. Don’t worry too much about it – I’m not testing you, okay?”

Sorey nods with great enthusiasm while Mikleo mutters out a more subdued echo of “okay”. The whole exercise seems a little pointless – why didn’t the directive team run through this themselves earlier? Still, he knows better than to argue, and accepts the request without a complaint. Rose must notice his apprehension because she snorts.

Mikleo turns to properly look at who he’d be working with and – wow, he hadn’t managed a good, proper look at Sorey, not until now. Now he can see him properly, he’s surprised to find that Sorey is actually sort of _really_ good-looking; not in the rugged, manly way that Eguille is, no, it’s far worse. He’s warm and exotic – maybe it’s the tan? - and, well, on a conventional level, his face is… Nice. All dimples and green eyes. _Cute_ , even, which he’d already noticed, _hot_ , yes, but not in a way that makes Mikleo’s heart race.

“Mikleo, you remember what you did for your reading of Robbie?” Eguille is asking him, waking him up from his Sorey-induced coma. He just about manages a nod through the haze. “Alright, stick with that! Sorey, I’d like you to read the part of James Prince. Again, your audition was near perfect, so no mixing it up, okay?”

Sorey nods enthusiastically. “Sure thing!”

“Okay.” Eguille hands them the scripts, which, like in the first audition, had been cut to just one page of dialogue. “No need for stage directions. I’ll read out the ones that matter. Just read the lines, and start whenever you’re ready.”

Mikleo meets Sorey’s eyes, intending to check if he was ready to start, and is shocked to find that, in an instant, Sorey had undergone an entire personality shift from bright and cheerful to soft and earnest. Mikleo is more than a little taken aback at the change – where did he go? He sure wasn’t looking at the same Sorey he’d met before, that was for certain.

“A week without you seems like forever.” It’s so serious, so soft, so fond – Mikleo almost forgets to reply to him.

“A week’s a long time in politics.” He stammers out, trying to meet Sorey’s eyes without spontaneously combusting. “How long do you have?”

Sorey scrunches up his face, as if he’s puzzled. “Now?”

“No, before you die!” _Remember to act, Mikleo, remember to act._ It’s become a mantra in his head; he can’t be acting like a blushing schoolgirl when he’s supposed to be playing a forward and light-hearted role. “Of course now!”

“This is just a quick hello.” Sorey’s voice drops, as if he’s telling Mikleo a secret. It’s all very intimate. _Remember to act._

“Yeah, yeah, unbelievable! Anyone would think you was running for mayor.” The stage directions tell him to squeeze Sorey’s nose, which he pointedly doesn’t do. “I just wanna squadge you.”

“Squadge?” Sorey tilts his head in this way that makes him look like a confused puppy. Mikleo stares at him in wonderment for a few moments, mimicking the action as if that would help him understand. He actually _does_ forget to reply this time, until Sorey gently cleared his throat and flickered his eyes down to the script. _Oh, right_.

“Uh, Wendy does it to Peter Pan.” Mikleo ducks his head, trying to ignore the sensation of heat creeping down his neck as his flush spread. So much for not acting like a blushing schoolgirl.

He can’t tell if the small smile Sorey gives him is a personal one in response to how red-faced he became, or if it’s still him acting. “That _is_ gay.”

Mikleo scoffs. “I thought you didn’t like that word?”

“I don’t like labels.” Sorey responds with this little pout that makes Mikleo _actually_ want to squeeze his nose.

Eguille interjects with the stage directions. “Robbie’s phone starts to ring.” It’s a shock to Mikleo, who had just started to get so into the script that he’d nearly forgotten where he was. He blames Sorey and his stupid, earnest eyes.

“Don’t answer it.” Sorey sounds desperate. Mikleo thinks he would have listened, if he were Robbie, if Sorey were going to ask like that. Or, uh, James Prince.

“Like you wouldn’t,” is what the script _makes_ him say. Mikleo feels almost betrayed. Screw this script. Screw Sorey’s sad, sulky puppy eyes.

Eguille interjects again, a subtle reminder that once again this isn’t a real conversation and there’s no one for Mikleo to feel bad for. “Robbie answers his phone.”

“Hello?” It feels _extra_ weird, pretending to be on the phone with a voice no one can hear. “’Cro, you know I can’t talk right now… Oh, God, not another one. Alright, I’ll sort it.” He turns his gaze back to Sorey, who is looking at him expectantly. “Sorry, it’s… It’s a work thing.” The stammer wasn’t scripted – it was an after-effect of looking directly at Sorey directly – but Eguille smiles and seems to like it. So, success, he guesses.

“How’s it going?” The genuine concern in Sorey’s voice proceeds to floor Mikleo for the fourth time since they started reading through this.

“Not good.” He forces himself to look into Sorey’s expectant doe eyes again. “Another machine’s gone down and it’s gonna… cost...”

The concern Sorey is wearing increases tenfold; the intimacy, too, tenfold. Mikleo’s gay, increased, tenfold. “Look, I can always help -”

“I don’t want any money.” Mikleo interrupts him, stern. This conversation is starting to feel too real – too relevant to him, suddenly - and he’s not sure he’s comfortable with it. Not sure he’s comfortable with the way Sorey looks at him like he _wants_ to fix everything, even if it’s only acting, it’s _only acting_ he doesn’t know -

“Okay, stop there.” Eguille leans back with a smile, cutting Sorey off before he can read the next line – simultaneously snapping Mikleo out of his sudden panic. “That’s perfect, both of you.” He looks a little bit like he’d just won an all-expenses paid weekend trip to Disneyland.

Mikleo is a little relieved the script stopped when it did, and also a little pleased that he’s getting recognition despite it all. Eguille gives them a final thanks before scuttling – fully _scuttling_ as if he weren’t hot and manly enough to get away with buying alcohol, probably – back to Lucas and Rosh at the other end of the studio. He hardly has time to watch them chatter excitedly before Sorey is trying to get his attention again.

“You’re really good.” Sorey is still smiling when Mikleo turns to look at him. Mikleo wonders if it hurts to look like that all the time, so bright and happy and sincere.

“Thanks...” Mikleo shuffles on his feet, trying to keep his eyes on Sorey’s instead of staring at his shoes. “This is my first time doing anything like this.”

Sorey looks taken aback. “All of it, or just the acting?”

Mikleo tries not to be startled by the question. It wasn’t like Mikleo had sung to Sorey, or really danced in front of him either – as if anyone had time to watch other people perform. “All of it.”

“Yeah? I’ve never done anything like this, either.” Sorey still seems a little surprised, but it eases off. Mikleo is somewhat flattered that Sorey thinks he was that good; his expression doesn’t _seem_ put on, at least, so he’s assuming it’s a genuine compliment. “I’m enjoying it, though.”

“You’re not half bad yourself.” The compliment seems to warrant a return; besides, it’s true. Mikleo tries to offer a smile but it comes off looking – and feeling – a little smug.

Sorey doesn’t seem put off, though; he seems equally as flattered. “Aww, thanks! I thought I wasn’t putting enough effort into it, but -”

“Hey, are you going to stand around nattering all day or are you going to come and get pizza?” It’s Rose that cuts them off, shouldering her way into the conversation with this big, expectant grin. The scolding look she gives Sorey is dampened by her response to his laughter.

“Oh, sorry, Rose!” Sorey chuckles; he does the thing with his neck again, rubbing it absently while maintaining apologetic eye contact. His gaze shifts to Mikleo again; is that hesitation Mikleo spies? “Uh, we should go, then?”

“Well -” Mikleo realises it’s an invitation, albeit a slightly subtle one. It was no ‘hey, Mikleo, I want to buy you pizza!’ but it certainly felt like one. Which is ridiculous. Why would Sorey be saying that in the first place? Of course, he remembers, there’s a social night after this; he hadn’t thought about it, since he knew he wouldn’t be able to go. He feels almost bad saying no to that face. “I’ve actually got stuff to be doing. I shouldn’t stick around.”

“You aren’t coming?” Sorey sounds disappointed. Hell, he _looks_ disappointed; Mikleo can almost see the droopy ears and the tail between his leg. Mikleo feels _extra_ bad for saying no, now.

“No, I – I have to go home.” Why the hesitation? Mikleo is embarrassed for himself. He’s clearly too weak for cute boys and puppy-dog eyes. “I have to make my mom dinner, so I can’t.”

“That’s too bad! We would’ve loved to sit with you. Right, Sorey?”

Sorey manages a sheepish nod, but he’s mostly looking at Mikleo.

“Some other time.” Rose shrugs, hauling her bag over her shoulder and making her casual, nonchalant way towards the door, where the other students were starting to gather. “Not like we don’t go to the same school.”

“You can always join us for lunch!” Sorey pipes up, perking at Rose’s comment. He doesn’t even move to follow her. “It was really nice meeting you, dude! You seem really cool.”

Sorey holds his hand out, presumably for Mikleo to shake. Mikleo swallows. “Yeah. You too.”

He tentatively accepts the handshake – tries not to think about Sorey’s big, calloused hands or how disappointingly skinny and pale his fingers are in comparison. He doesn’t think to let it linger, especially not with how Sorey is staring at him in this interested way; Mikleo doesn’t _like_ being read like this.

“Your eyes are purple.” Sorey’s hand hovers where Mikleo has just let go of it, staring at him with this curious surprise. Mikleo starts a little; he’s used to the observation, sure, and he knows it’s rare, but he’s not sure it’s worth cutting off a conversation and looking like you’ve discovered bigfoot over.

“Yeah?” Mikleo raises an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Sorey hadn’t stared _directly into his eyes_ the whole time they were doing that cold read; it’s kind of astonishing he hadn’t noticed that little number already. “It’s an albino thing. I got it from my mom.”

“You’re albino?” It’s not a question; more an exclamation of surprise. Mikleo is feeling a little hot under Sorey’s scrutiny. “I mean, uh, I should’ve guessed. Your hair is really light.”

Mikleo scoffs. It wasn’t like it wasn’t noticeable; it’s rare to see a honey-kissed platinum blonde of his shade on anyone who doesn’t bleach their hair. In fact, it’s usually the first thing people bring up about his appearance. Instead of… You know. His eyes. “Always has been.”

“It’s pretty.” Sorey’s hand twitches against his leg in this way that makes it look like it thinks about gravitating back towards Mikleo, but he’s not sure if he’s imagining that or not. There’s a pregnant pause – Mikleo isn’t sure if he should thank Sorey for the compliment or not; as compliments go, it’s a… strange one to get. No one other than his own mother has called him _pretty_ before. “I better go before Rose starts shouting!”

“SOREY!” Rose is already shouting.

Sorey winces, offering Mikleo an apologetic smile, before he jogs off with a small wave. “See you, Mikleo!”

“Uh, yeah.” Sorey is long out of earshot before Mikleo can even return the goodbye. “See you.”

 

 

“How did the callbacks go?”

Mikleo is squinting hard at the spaghetti he’s stirring as if he can force it to be done through the sheer power of will alone. He wants nothing more than to eat and go to bed.

“Okay.” Mikleo replies dryly. He knows it’s a mistake, that he should no better than to expect his own mother not to pry, but he can’t bring himself to be more upbeat by force. She would have picked up on it, anyway.

Predictably, Muse doesn’t let up. “Do you think you got in?” she presses, making a point of bumping their arms together when she slides an empty plate over to him.

“Maybe.” Mikleo doesn’t even look at her, focuses solely on the spaghetti. No words. Only tomato and basil sauce now.

That clearly isn’t within the realm of acceptable for Muse, though. It never is. As much as Mikleo tries his best to mask how he’s feeling, she and Edna are the only people in the world, it seems, that can pick up on his real feelings by instinct alone. It’s irritating. “More than two syllables, please, dear.” she contends, though she backs off to get glasses for their drinks.

“Sorry.” Mikleo says, then backtracks. “Sorry, mom.”

He doesn’t look, but her eye roll is pretty much audible, even from where he’s standing. “Are you going to tell me anything about what happened?” Muse queries, filling the glasses up with orange juice, straight from the carton. He’s too tired to complain about pulp right now, but that doesn’t stop him from turning to make a grumpy expression at the glasses. Muse gives him this knowing smile that tells him she knows she’s won his attention.

He finally concedes with a heavy, dramatic sigh. “I think I made some friends.”

“Really? Who?” Predictably Muse is ecstatic at the very concept. It’s not like Mikleo can blame her, but the excitement is a little overwhelming. And embarrassing. Super embarrassing. “Tell me everything!”

‘Everything’ isn’t really much to tell – he doesn’t want to recount the story of his first few meetings with Rose, especially not the part where he was seductively freestyling by himself in a music practice room, but he supposes today was safe enough as a starting point. “This girl, Rose – the one from the drama club that’s been texting me nonstop? - I think she broke all of my toes trying to dance with me.” He thoughtfully spoons spaghetti onto the plates, wondering if it was worth continuing or if he’d regret it. “And her friend. This guy called Sorey.”

The mention of any ‘guy’ in Mikleo’s life has Muse’s eyebrows raising and he regrets it. This smile that Mikleo hates starts to appear; he can predict, word for word what she’s going to say next. ‘ _Sorey? -’_ “Sorey?” _‘_ _\- is he cute?’_ “Is he cute?”

“ _Mom_ ,” Mikleo makes a point of being forceful when he puts the plates down on the dining table. Muse is always like this when he mentions boys – ever since he came out to her. He can’t forget the day if he tried; the hours spent crying trying to build himself up to the task, only for her to reply with a nonchalant ‘oh honey you didn’t need to tell me I already knew’, so like, thanks, mom. “You know I don’t make a habit of falling in love with, like, every guy I see, right?”

“But is he cute?” It’s not _false_ , per se. Sorey _is_ cute. But lots of boys are cute – handsome, even; he hasn’t sweat over Sorey any more than he’s sweat over Eguille, and more recently Lucas, on top of the countless other boys Mikleo has sweat over. “I need to know these things, Mikleo.”

Mikleo smiles fondly down at his plate. He’s glad Muse is so supportive of him about this, teasing aside. He couldn’t ask for a better mom. “He’s okay.”

“Just okay? You’re not giving me much to work with, sweetheart!”

Mikleo rolls his eyes, staring at her incredulously over a forkful of spaghetti. “If I tell you he’s the sexiest seventeen year old in the world and I’m going to let him ravage me the moment we’re legal, will you stop?”

Muse fakes shock, clutching a hand to her heart. “And you’re not inviting him over for dinner first? I raised you better!”

“Seriously, mom! He’s just a guy.” Mikleo thinks a bit harder about it. Sorey was, honestly, hardly _just_ a guy, but it was in the popular, cool guy with his pick of the girls kind of way. The thought grounds Mikleo back in reality – Sorey had that look about him, those eyes and that smile, that could land any girl he wanted. Straight or not, he’s hardly going to be giving awkward-limbed pasty-white-boy Mikleo second looks. “Besides, he’s definitely straight.”

“Did _he_ tell you that?” Muse always asks this question and the answer is always the same. Mikleo doesn’t _need_ to ask; it’s high school, and he didn’t meet the guy at salsa class or anything.

“It’s a 9 in 10 thing, mom, and he definitely does sports.” _Definitely_ , with muscles like that. He remembers Sorey mentioning track, before, which is pretty much the school’s only good team. “The odds are not in my favour.”

Muse looks at him incredulously. “Hey, athletes can be gay! What about that Olympic swimmer?”

“That’s swimming. I did swimming in middle school.” Mikleo rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to his dinner. He’s _so_ not in for this argument – one they’ve had multiple times. Quite simply, he’s not willing to sacrifice his dignity and relative safety for the chance that someone sort of cute could be gay. Besides, like he’d already mentioned, being gay wasn’t an immediate pass that Mikleo was within league.

“Are you telling me I paid for swimming lessons so you could look at shirtless boys?”

Mikleo smiles into his spaghetti. “Maybe. You have no proof.”

“Goodness, to think I thought I knew my own son!” Muse cries, scandalised. “What have I raised!”

Mikleo snorts along with his mother’s laughter, letting himself get carried away in the familiar. He _likes_ this, him and his mom, the dynamic they share when no one else is involved. It’s always been just them – part of their relationship isn’t so much about being _mother and son_ , but more about being good, close friends who support each other where it counts. All appropriate teasing included. He almost forgets to be embarrassed that she’s already teasing him over Sorey (he makes a mental note to _never_ bring up Eguille, or his ass) in favour of thanking his lucky stars for such a good mom.

The laughter gives way to comfortable silence as they finish their dinners – Mikleo can’t bring himself to take more than a few sips of juice, it’s far too pulpy and gross, so Muse takes it from him – and, once again, Mikleo is left to his own thoughts. He could, in this familiar, domestic setting, forget what school was like, what he’d been up to today, what it might mean for him.

“Any clue when you’ll know if you got a part or not?” Muse asks, after the silence has dragged on for too long and the last traces of amusement have faded from Mikleo’s face to give way to renewed anxiety. She seems to have noticed.

“Whenever they finalise it, I guess.” He shrugs, pushing spaghetti around his plate with his fork. His appetite seems to fade away almost instantaneously at the reminder. “Rose said she’d text me when she knows.”

Muse offers a smile, but it doesn’t help. “You sound forlorn, dear. Cheer up a bit!”

“Sorry, it’s -” Mikleo swallows. Sorry for what? He actually isn’t sure. Despite it all, he’s sort of worried that he _didn’t_ do well. He’s just started to make a friend in Rose that he isn’t sure he can keep if he doesn’t get in, and Sorey seems equally interested to be involved. At least, it didn’t _seem_ fake. “I don’t know? I guess I didn’t realise how much I wanted this.”

“Mikleo.” Muse puts on her best ‘i’m-your-mom-and-everything-i-say-is-fact’ voice. “Everything will be fine, trust me. It doesn’t matter what happens.”

It’s hardly comforting. Mikleo has always been the sort of guy to ride his entire self-worth on things like this – failure just doesn’t sit well with him, no matter how much anyone says they’re not ashamed of him. He’s ashamed of _himself_. He can’t shake the feeling.

“I’m going to bed.” He tells her, softly. It’s far too early, really, but Muse doesn’t bring it up – just looks at him with her usual motherly concern.

“Alright, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

Mikleo collapses into his bedroom without another word between them, Victoria at his toes with insistent meows. She always sleeps in his bed every night, regardless of what time he himself chooses to go to bed – he’s never more grateful of the fact than now, when he wants nothing more than to settle his hand in her fur and fall asleep to the sound of her reassuring purrs.

It’s difficult, shaking any thought from your mind when you’re worried about it, but his mind stubbornly refocuses on the callbacks. They had gone well, hadn’t they? He’d got a ‘good job’ from Lucas, he’d only stuttered on the dancing when Rose got involved, and Eguille’s _face_ after the callbacks. What was he worried about? _Commitment? Friendship?_ He snorts at how ridiculous he’s being, and with that, manages to quell the feeling that settled in his gut over dinner.

He’s just managed to get comfortable, Victoria curled up by his side, when his phone buzzes obnoxiously from his bedside table. Groggily, he reaches over to check it; who would bother texting him right now?

It turns out to be a single text from Rose. _Jst talked to Eguille_ , it reads. _Cast list outside drama studio tmrw lunch x._

The churning in Mikleo’s stomach comes back at full force.

 

 

Mikleo throws his head against his locker with a resounding CLANG.

“Way to be overdramatic.” Edna deadpans from behind him. “This drama thing will work out well for you.”

He turns his head to face her, looking as irritated as he can muster behind his intense frustration. “Look, I don’t even know if I got a part yet.”

“I thought you didn’t care if you did or not?” Edna raises an eyebrow. He’s been seeing an awful lot of that lately.

“I mean,” Mikleo starts to reply, but realises too late that he isn’t sure how to finish his sentence. He _doesn’t_ care. But he does? Since when? “I don’t! But I do. I don’t want to have sucked?”

“You didn’t suck.” There’s a rare sincerity in Edna’s voice; not that she isn’t always painfully, bluntly honest, but there’s something more genuine in it right now. Sympathy? “Not getting a part doesn’t mean you suck.”

He shoves his face back onto his locker. “You know what I mean, Edna.”

She hums but doesn’t respond to him immediately. Her sudden silence confuses him for all of three seconds before he spots two pairs of shoes halted just a short distance away; two pairs of muddy, worn out converse that Mikleo is surprised to recognise.

“Morning, Mikleo!” Rose sounds horribly chipper for a Monday. “You got my text?”

“Yeah.” Mikleo grips his bag strap tighter, crawling away from the wall in embarrassment. He wants to hope they didn’t see him throwing a miniature tantrum and bang his head against his locker, but that happened not even a full minute ago so it’s definitely wishful thinking.

“We were going to go look together now.” Sorey chirps. Edna is watching in quiet fascination, clearly ignoring Mikleo’s telepathic pleading to alleviate the situation. _Free me_ , he begs in her direction. “Want to come along?”

Rose doesn’t give him time to answer, even though he opens his mouth to. “Of course he’s coming along!” She’s taking hold of his wrist before he can protest. “He’s got the look of a guy who’s just gotta know. You just gotta know, right?”

Mikleo feels utterly helpless at Rose’s mercy, letting himself be dragged limply away from his locker. He swears he hears Edna laugh at him under her breath. “Yes, I suppose...”

“He’s just gotta know.” Rose gives Sorey an affirming nod.

Sorey doesn’t step forward to help, but he does offer some respite, “I’m sure he can walk himself, Rose-” It doesn’t do anything to help, of course, but Mikleo appreciates the attempt. Not that Rose could possibly be deterred from doing what she wants, as he is coming to realise. Even as Sorey grabs her free wrist before she can run off with Mikleo in tow.

“Aw, Sorey, if you wanted to hold my hand, you should’ve said something!” Rose smirks, taking hold of Sorey’s hand properly. Honestly Mikleo would rather that than be in her vice-grip for the entire walk, but he doesn’t dare make a comment. He’s actually a little scared of her.

“You’d just make me carry you!” Sorey contends, wrestling his hand free from Rose’s with a strength Mikleo can only dream of possessing (mentally and physically) to swat at her childishly.

Mikleo is freed from Rose’s clutches so she can launch an attack on Sorey in turn, jabbing him angrily in the side. Mikleo watches with an odd fascination as the two old friends get into a full-on slap fight right in front of his eyes. Oddly, he’s not sure who would win if they got into an _actual_ fight.

He wonders if he should just run while they’re distracted. He turns to look at Edna’s reaction; she looks nothing but amused, but it’s in that way that means she’s laughing at Mikleo’s expense. If he runs now he doesn’t think he’ll hear the end of it.

“Are you coming, Edna?” Mikleo gives her a desperate look. She smirks.

“I already looked. Have fun, Meebo.”

 

 

“Ready?” Rose blocks the cast list bodily, hiding it from Sorey and Mikleo’s gazes as well as her own. “We look on the count of three, all together, okay?”

“Rose!” Sorey whines, voicing the complaint that Mikleo didn't dare to; “Just let us see! Why do you have to make it a _thing_?”

“Wow, okay, no fun allowed, I get it.” Rose snorts, but she still moves out of the way. She tries to act chill about it, Mikleo can see, but she whips her head around to look just as fast as Mikleo and Sorey do.

It's almost like he can't read suddenly. The list is all blurred when he looks at it, as if his brain were trying to block out the words on the sheet. He blinks once, twice, three times, trying to force his eyes to focus.

 

**SOHO CINDERS CAST LIST**

Robbie – Mikleo Rulay  
Velcro – Rose Wilkis  
James Prince – Sorey Shepherd  
Lord Billingham – Eguille Sparrow  
Clodagh – Symonne Hiromi  
Dana – Natalie Flumen  
William George – Lunarre Koyasu  
Marilyn – Alisha Diphda

Ensemble

Felice Ayn  
Talfryn Ayn  
Edna Yulind  
Dezel Yurlin  
Mason Calidi  
Uno Lopez  
Ian Garrett  
Sirel Green  
Lucas Woods

and featuring  
L. F. MIOMA  
as Sidesaddle

 

“Robbie?” Mikleo blinks hard a few more times. That’s the part they kept making him read in auditions, wasn’t it? He feels like he’s heard the name a lot lately.

“You got cast the _lead_ ,” Rose is grinning hard at him. Mikleo thinks he should smile back, but he can’t wipe the shocked look off of his face to be able to put a smile there.

“The who?” He knows who Robbie is. He remembers. He just didn’t think that would be _his_ role.

“Your name is at the _top of the list_ , Mikleo, that’s where the _lead role_ goes.” Her hands rise to rest triumphantly on her hips. He wants to be argumentative about it, say something snarky back about how her name is literally the one below his, but he’s too surprised to say anything. Besides, anything he can think of just sounds like a weird, off-hand compliment. “I told you, didn’t I? You did amazing!”

“You too,” Mikleo says back dumbly. He feels like his words would have more impact if he wasn’t staring at her like a deer in the headlights.

“I don't know who any of these characters are.” Sorey sounds ecstatic despite his complaint; probably part and parcel of receiving a named role, which usually indicates _some_ kind of importance. There’s an indescribable feeling that descends right into Mikleo’s gut.

Surprisingly, part of that feeling is _excited_.

  


 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Wishing for the normal kind of dream_   
>  _Trouble is, they're harder than they seem_   
>  _Am I too ambitious? Am I out of touch?_   
>  _Am I wishing for too much?_


	3. Spin!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the a aaleast beta read chapter of All Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you were wondering ednas audition was just this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_a7ef75kv0
> 
> i was sure i wasnt going to get this done on time because i injured my wrist playing too much dream daddy but never underestimate my ability to fic grind the day before i want to put something out
> 
>  
> 
> endnotes for songs u might need while reading

“Rose?” Sorey sounds oddly meek. “Can you tell Eguille that I won’t be able to make it today?”

Mikleo only manages to give him a curious look. Rose is looking much more offended, halting mid-crunch to stare at Sorey incredulously while holding a carrot.

Usually Mikleo spent lunch in the practice rooms - he’d eat on his way over, because he never really had much for lunch to begin with, and then would sit in relative solitude for the rest of the hour while doing work. Befriending Rose apparently meant that was illegal now; instead, it’s customary to spend lunchtimes at her lunchtable, joined by Sorey and her boyfriend, Dezel, who Mikleo quite frankly finds terrifying.

He’s sitting in silence right now – Dezel, that is – and he has a contemplative air about him, like he’s always judging someone for something. He probably has dirt on everyone at the table, somehow.

Of course, this is all assumption on Mikleo’s part. They’ve spoken twice and the rest of the time they’ve known each other Dezel’s sat there looking decidedly angry at the existence of everyone and everything.

“It’s the first rehearsal, you absolutely useless piece of soggy bread.” Rose throws the carrot at Sorey. It hits him square on the forehead.

“I have to go to track!” Sorey whines. Mikleo is actually sort of impressed at the way the carrot just bounced off him and he didn’t even care. He wonders how often Sorey is at the receiving end of vegetable themed assault, and thinks of how many times he’s been on the end of Edna’s umbrella. “It’s Sergei’s first year as captain, you know this! He’s super stressed, so I at least want to be there for him, like, most practices.”

“You know, you’re gonna have to skip track to come to at least some of the rehearsals.” Rose’s voice is stern. “You can’t just wait until the Saturday rehearsals after spring break to come along, we’ll have already learned, like, the entire show by then.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sorey rubs his eyes tiredly. Mikleo hadn’t noticed it before, but Sorey looks particularly tired this morning, as characteristically dopey and happy as he seems above that. “Track’s on Wednesday’s and Friday’s too, so I mean, I can go to all of those and just skip out Monday, but I just wanna make sure Sergei’s fine before that.”

“You do track?” Mikleo asks. He, then, remembers that Sorey has already told him this, and kicks himself. Thankfully, Sorey doesn’t mention it.

“Yeah, he like, runs, or whatever.” Rose snorts, waving a stick of celery about.

“I don’t just run, Rose,” Sorey huffs, ducking his head. “I sprint. I can do 100 metres in 11 seconds.”

Mikleo doesn’t know enough about running to know if he should be impressed by that. “Cool.”

“It’s just running.” Rose shrugs, fixing Sorey with that same scolding look. “Are you going to come or not?”

“I'll come to as many as I can,” Sorey assures, putting a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “Just… let me clear other days with Coach and Sergei first? It's a pretty important year for them, and I don't want to let them down as much as I don't want to let you down.”

Rose sighs, dramatically. “Oh my God, fine, dude! Enough with the puppy eyes!” She laughs, at least, which is as good a sign as any that she’s letting the issue go for now.

Dezel had been quiet this whole time – Mikleo’s sure he wouldn’t have noticed his presence if he, himself, hadn’t been remaining equally as tight-lipped throughout the exchange. It’s the normal, it seems, for their lunchtime hangouts; Rose and Sorey have energised banter in everyone’s personal space, and Dezel mostly listens, occasionally reprimanding Rose specifically or trying to subtly hold her hand in that way straight couples seem to like to do in public. Mikleo has joined the ‘mostly listening’ club, except without the reprimanding because Rose would probably beat him up, and he’s certainly not holding anyone’s hand.

“I’ll be there.” Dezel says, slow. He’s got a deep, almost commanding voice, one that had startled Mikleo the instant he opened his mouth when they first met. It doesn’t help that Dezel is _incredibly_ tall and quite scary-looking, what with his fixated, unseeing eyes (it hadn’t been a shock to learn he was blind – not that it was a secret, or anything, but those cloudy irises and the way he _stared without blinking_ was a dead giveaway from the start) “If that matters.”

“Awh, boo, ‘course it does!” Rose coos, leaning over to pinch Dezel’s cheek. He responds with a half-hearted grunt. “This _unsticky post-it note_ over here, however, is one of our leads, _the_ other lead, in fact, aside from yours truly and Mikky-boy over here, and, no offense, hun, but we can survive if one member of the ensemble decides to go run in a field instead of sing with us for an hour.”

“Glad to know I’m appreciated.” Dezel deadpans, at the exact same Sorey echoes his previous whine of “I don’t just _run,_ Rose!”

Mikleo wisely decides to keep quiet.

“You’re coming, right, Mikleo?” Rose turns to him with a pleading look. “I can count on you to not be an utter disappointment?”

She shoots Sorey a bitter look as she says it, right as Mikleo swallows. “Yeah, of course.” He replies, though he’s sure it lacks conviction. It’s not that he wasn’t planning on it, Rose is just intimidating.

“Mikleo is my new favourite.” Rose throws another carrot at Sorey. “Friendship ended with Sorey, now Mikleo is my best friend.”

Sorey pouts. “I _promise_ I’ll be there next week. I can miss one meet a week, I’m sure, but not without clearing it first.”

“I told you, bro, it’s whatever.” Rose sticks her tongue out at him. “You can’t win me back that easy.”

“You’ll be his friend again within an hour when he gives you his pudding.” Dezel shrugs at the scandalised look Rose shoots him.

“Maybe _I’ll_ eat the pudding!” Sorey huffs, poking a spoon into said pudding. He stares at it for a moment, obviously remembering he doesn’t like pudding if the face he makes is anything to go by, and then looks up at Mikleo. “Hey, Mikleo, want my pudding?”

Mikleo _does_ like pudding. He nods and takes it, and actually feels a little pleased with the look Rose sends him.

 

 

Rehearsals are slotted for once every week at the moment, two hours after school ends on a Monday. Other than the obvious conflict with Sorey’s track meets, it seems to be the best time for everyone; there’s a lot of people here that Mikleo vaguely recognises from the callbacks.

It’s a little intimidating, so many people looking so determined and so pleased with themselves; the best Mikleo can do is stick to Rose like it’s his turn to be her sad, lost puppy.

Eguille, Lucas and Rosh head the group as always, armed with boxes of what appear to be shirts and stacks upon stacks of paper. Scripts, probably, Mikleo’s brain helpfully supplies.

“Thanks everyone for coming,” Eguille starts, dropping down the box he’s carrying. It makes a loud _thump_ when it hits the stage. “It means a lot to us that so many people were interested in our show, and even more that we’d end up with such a talented bunch forming our cast.” There’s a couple of proud murmurs among the group, as if they thought Eguille was addressing them personally. Mikleo notes that one of those murmurs is from Rose at Dezel.

“Just in case you don’t already know,” Lucas takes the lead, dumping his own box next to Eguille’s. “The show we’re running this year is _Soho Cinders_. One more time, in case you haven’t heard it enough – that’s _Soho Cinders.”_ Rosh rolls his eyes. “For those of you who haven’t already looked at the Wikipedia article, it’s a modern retelling of Cinderella. At this stage, that pretty much covers it – you’re getting your scripts today, so you’ll get the gist of it when you read it for yourself.”

Eguille takes the lead again as soon as he’s helped Rosh with the last of the three boxes. “Alright, so now that everyone’s here, we can get started with - Where’s Sorey?”

“He couldn’t make it.” Rose rolls her eyes, leaning against her knuckles. “He had to go do his running thing.”

Eguille furrows his brow, scrubbing at it with one hand. “I hope this won’t be a recurring issue?”

Rose throws her hands in the air dramatically. “Don’t ask me!” She complains, giving Eguille an exasperated look. “He’s not usually like this, I swear! I’ll kick him into shape, cuz, I promise.”

“I’m hoping everyone else here -” Eguilles gaze sweeps across the room, steely as it individually manages to meet everyone’s eyes at once, somehow. “- realises that this is a commitment. We’ll be asking for more and more of your free time as time goes on, and if that’s a problem for anyone, I hope the discussion is _before_ rehearsal.”

Not that Mikleo has known him very long, but he’s never seen Eguille so grumpy. He hopes _this_ won’t be a recurring issue, because he’s not sure he’ll do well if he’s both scared of and attracted to the director.

“Fortunately,” Eguille sighs, looking defeated. “We’re just using today to give everyone their scripts, plus some other things. Rose, I’ll have to count on you to get this information to Sorey.”

“Sure thing, captain.” Rose drawls, though she still looks pretty fed up. Mikleo doesn’t suppose he can blame her.

“Scripts will be up front - we’ll just leave this hour open for everyone to read through the scripts for the first time, ask us any questions they want, the works.” Lucas interjects, sensing Eguille’s stress. “We also have some cast shirts for everyone, so make sure you grab one! We’ve got the sizes arranged into piles, smallest to largest.”

Picking up a cast shirt makes the whole thing feel official to Mikleo, even more so than picking up his script does. He puts it on on top of his everyday shirt - mostly to copy Rose, who does the same, but also because even the smallest size is a little bit loose on him - and it feels even more official. Like, double official, now. Officially inducted into the cult, official.

It’s a more comforting feeling than he anticipated.

“We’ll give you this time to go through your scripts by yourselves and ask us any questions if need be.” Eguille instructs, handing out the last of the scripts to an excited looking pair of siblings (Mikleo assumes they’re relate because aside from hairstyle, they look near enough identical, but you never know).

“Want to go through it with us, Mikleo?” Rose asks from behind him. Mikleo turns, faces where Rose is standing script in hand with Dezel hovering behind her with a hand gripping her shoulder. Mikleo still isn’t sure if it’s a ‘poor eyesight’ thing or a ‘this is my girlfriend and I need everyone to know that’ thing. Rose is offering a highlighter in his direction.

“Yeah, okay.” Mikleo nods, taking the orange highlighter from her. “You got one for Sorey already?”

Dezel nods. “Rose is going through mine and his at the same time.” That’s right, Mikleo thinks. It’s not like Dezel would be highlighting his own script. What was even the point in him having one?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take one?” Mikleo offers, gesturing to his own singular script. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s just highlighting, man.” Rose laughs, whacking Mikleo gently with the three scripts in her hand. “This is, like, my third time script highlighting. I’m an old pro. Don’t you worry about me!”

“The offer’s there,” Mikleo tries, fiddling with the paper in his hand, feeling a little sheepish. “I wasn’t saying you couldn’t or anything, I-”

“Yeah, whatever, dude.” Rose snorts, digging around in her backpack and waving a dismissive hand at him. “Want some juice?”

Mikleo raises an eyebrow at her apparent foresight to bring multiple cartons of juice with her, but he’s not going to turn down OJ when he doesn’t know when his next fix will be, so he graciously accepts one of the cartons she hands to him and, just as she does, flips open his script.

“Might as well get started ASAP,” Rose instructs, tugging the cap off her highlighter with her teeth and flipping through all three scripts at once with almost unbelievable speed. “Man, I get so many solos, looks like. This is awesome.”

“Nothing for me, I hope?” Dezel has his eyes trained on the script Rose designated as his, highlighted with green (probably to match his kind of ridiculous dyed hair). Mikleo wonders how much he _can_ see and if he can decipher the green smudges Rose is splattering all over the page.

“Nah, unless you’ve been designated the role of ‘sexy shirtless dancer’.” Rose nudges him with a snort. “And no offense, but I think Lucas wanted someone with more abs for that role.”

Dezel shrugs, obviously not phased by the comment. Mikleo wouldn’t disagree, in Dezel’s position; instead, he’s looking at a similar number of solos as Rose. Including an _entire song_ to himself, according to the list of musical numbers at the front of the script, which obviously isn’t terrifying at all.

“You and I get a couple of duets, huh, Mikleo?” Rose hums, highlighting away at terminal velocity. Guess you’re gonna have to get used to spending all your spare time with me, buddy.”

Mikleo rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to his script. He assumes that would make sense – he guesses, since this is a Cinderella-based story, they’re just playing the lead couple. Taking a sip from the carton, he continues scanning down the page for his stage directions; it’s not a bother to him if he has to pretend to have chemistry with Rose. If anything, that’s better than it being with a stranger. He’s just about finished reading through the fourth song when a certain line catches his eye; a particular stage direction that has his eyes widening and his chest tightening.

"I kiss Sorey?" Mikleo almost spits out his juice. It's there in it's unfortunate detail - the words ‘THEY KISS’ staring back at him from the middle of the page. He can't bring himself to highlight it.

"No, doofus, Robbie kisses James." Rose snorts, flicking Mikleo with her pen. "We've always just taught people how to do fake stage kisses, no need to have a heart attack over it! Did you think that this romantic musical about romance with romantic duets wouldn’t have even one kiss?”

Mikleo only manages a groan.

"Revel in it a bit, dude. Half the girls in the school would cut off an arm and both of their legs to be in your position. A good handful of the boys, too." Rose leans back in her chair, flashing Mikleo a smile that seems all too knowing.

“It’s no big deal.” Dezel adds, gaze slowly drifting to Mikleo. “No one is forcing you to do it.”

Rose has a look like she absolutely is forcing Mikleo to do it. “Besides, no homo, right?”

That's hardly the problem, Mikleo thinks pitifully. Very much homo, is the problem.

“Rose, I am gay.” He admits, pitifully, suddenly.

“For Sorey?” Rose quirks an eyebrow, looking pleased. It's not the response Mikleo expected, not to the fact he just came out to someone he's known for little more than a month, but then he remembers how it was when he told his mom and supposes that must be the standard for when he tells people he’s queer. Even Dezel has to stifle a snort.

“God, no.” Mikleo scrubs furiously at his eyes. First Muse, and now Rose? Sorey was a nice guy and all, and maybe a little attractive, but really?

Rose laughs a loud belly laugh and throws a pillow at him. “Careful! That's my best friend you're talking about!”

“Rose, please.” Then, in an echo of words he had said to his mother not even a week ago, “I don’t make a habit of falling in love with every guy I see.”

Rose snorts at him derisively. “Oh, please! I’ve seen the way you look Eguille. Like, you’d hit that.”

Mikleo gapes. “Rose!”

“I speak only truths.” She holds up her hands in a defensive stance. “C’mon, don’t you think Sorey is a little hot? I won’t tell. Everyone thinks it.”

“God, alright - okay. Let me rephrase.” Mikleo is feeling decidedly cornered right now. “I don’t make a habit of falling in love with my friends. It makes things weird. I know; I watch TV.”

Rose lips quirk into a smile. “That’s quite possibly the lamest thing you’ve ever said to me. You’re secretly a huge dork, aren’t you?”

Mikleo hides his face in his hands; he pretends like he’s stifling another groan, but he’s sure Rose already noticed how red his cheeks became. “Do you stop talking? Ever?”

“Nope.” Dezel answers for her, but Rose doesn’t look like she disagrees.

“You wound me, Mikleo.” Rose mock-clutches her chest. “Seriously, though, if it bothers you, go pester Eguille. He’ll replace it with a hug or something if he thinks you might start crying.”

“I won’t start crying.” Mikleo scoffs, finally conceding and highlighting the offending stage direction with a scowl. “Your cousin _is_ hot, though.” He says, suddenly, twirling his highlighter in his fingers.

Rose laughs so hard she falls over.

 

 

One of the new classes Mikleo has this semester is one he’s been looking forward to for a long time coming; cultural anthropology. In fact, the only reason Mikleo attends Ladylake instead of going to Pendrago High like he could have done – his test scores were certainly high enough – was because the former offered this class when the latter didn’t.

It’s a subject Mikleo has always had a passion for – he’s sure he wants to do something related to it when he goes to college in less than 2 years, and his grades are definitely good enough to do that, depending on where he chooses to go and whether or not he can afford it.

He’s more or less prepared for this to be The most exciting class of All Time, considering nothing else really catches his attention like this does – except possible music theory, but that’s neither here nor there and mostly because he likes his teacher – when he walks into the classroom five minutes early to find none other than Sorey Shepherd, by himself, also five minutes early.

“You’re in this class too?” Sorey’s eyes sparkle in this endearing way. “That’s awesome! I was kinda worried I’d be in it alone, y’know, since I didn’t know anyone else who was gonna take it.”

Mikleo nods, warily considering whether or not he should take the seat next to Sorey when it gets pulled out for him.

“Have you had Mr. Mayvin for any classes before?” Sorey asks, so giddy he probably doesn’t even realise that he just pulled out Mikleo’s chair for him like an upper class gentleman.

“History, freshman year.” Mikleo replies, taking the seat gratefully now social standards have pressured him into it.

“Did you go on the trip to the aqueducts?” Sorey asks, pulling out what looks like way more textbooks than are actually necessary for this class. “He taught me Latin that year! I went then.”

“No, I didn’t.” Mikleo still sort of regrets that, because he hasn’t had a chance to go since, but he knows that Mr. Mayvin takes his students every year. So, he’s at least got this opportunity.

“Shame,” Sorey shrugs, chewing on the end of his pen already. “We could’ve met then! It’s weird that we’ve gone to the same school this whole time and I’ve never seen you before.”

Mikleo focuses intently on getting out his own books and pencil case, focusing on anything but the possibility that Sorey is maybe suggesting that they, like, really get along or something. Not that they don’t – and not that Mikleo hates the idea, God, no, but it’s embarrassing to think about, that Sorey is invested in his existence.

“You’ve met me now.” Mikleo ducks his head.

Sorey either doesn’t notice or doesn’t appreciate him hiding away, since he keeps talking. “Is this really the only class we’ve ever had together?”

“It’s a big school.” Mikleo says, squinting as if in thought. He doesn’t remember ever seeing Sorey before, that’s for certain, and he thinks he would know. Not that he’s about to _say_ that, since he’d probably be asked for a reason, and considering that reason is ‘ur hot lol’ he doesn’t think Sorey needs to know.

“Oh, well.” Thankfully Sorey drops the subject before Mikleo can say something potentially embarrassing. “I didn’t know you liked this sort of stuff, anyways.”

“I’ve always been interested in anthropology.” Mikleo says, trying to discreetly eye up Sorey’s textbooks. None of them look like recommended reading, which means Sorey is either very, very dedicated or very, very ridiculous. Probably both.

Sorey puts on a wide, dopey grin, which definitely suggests that it’s both. “Me too! I’m applying for archaeology, actually. For college, I mean.”

Mikleo wouldn’t have pegged Sorey as the type, but he wouldn’t have pegged Sorey for a lot of types that he actually is. He supposes that he should be beyond the point of making assumptions about this guy by now. “I haven’t decided on a branch, yet. Maybe linguistic.”

“That’s cool,” Sorey rolls his pen back and forth on the table, eyes still fixed on Mikleo. He leans his cheek on his hand; Mikleo feels oddly like he’s on a blind date which is really not how he want to feels when he’s talking to Sorey. “How much do you know about the old language?”

“A little bit. I did more Latin than anything else.” Mikleo averts his eyes, focusing on reorganising his desk for the third time.

“You know Rose’s surname means ‘is Rose’?” Sorey grins. “I asked her parents and they didn’t even know. They just called their kid ‘Rose is Rose’ by accident. Funny, right?”

Mikleo does snort at that. “Yeah, figured. I don’t think anyone would call their daughter ‘Rose Rose’ on purpose.”

Sorey hums his agreement. “Your surname is Rulay, right?” He asks. Mikleo nods. “The Enforcer. Hmm, not sure if that suits you? Ever enforced anything?”

Mikleo is a little impressed that Sorey would know that from the top of his head. There’s also the possibility he looked it up when he heard Mikleo’s surname, but he prefers to think it’s the former. “It’s also a Dominican slang term for being really chill. Or maybe stoned, me and mom were never quite sure.”

Sorey laughs, rolling his pen into Mikleo’s space. “Really!”

“I don’t think that definition would suit me, either.” Mikleo smiles back, rolling the pen back towards Sorey without a thought. “What about ‘Shepherd’? As simple as it sounds?”

“Yeah, that’s about right.” Sorey rolls the pen right on back, and Mikleo again complies; starting a back-and-forth of pen-rolling between them. “My gramps always says that we’re descended from sheep farmers or something. Which really isn’t that exciting, as far as family histories go, but what can you do? I’m proud of my sheep farmer heritage!”

Mikleo bites back a comment about Sorey being like a German Shepherd just in case he’s the kind of person to get offended by the insinuation that he’s like a dog. Despite that, Mikleo can practically see Sorey’s tail wagging. “I come from a family of glassblowers. I think farming heritage might actually be a little more exciting.”

“I dunno, dude. You ever seen someone blow glass?” Sorey shrugs. Mikleo never wants to hear him refer to _blowing_ anything ever again. “I haven’t, but it sure sounds like it could be cool.”

“Well, it gave us some nice, highly breakable family heirlooms, I suppose.” Mikleo isn’t sure any of them actually still exist; Victoria probably broke the last of them.

“See! That’s cool!” Sorey beams, flicking the pen so hard it falls off the table. Neither of them bother going to pick it up. “I don’t have farming heirlooms! Like, you’d think they’d pass down, maybe, a dog, or something. That’d be cool.”

“I don’t think you can pass a dog down hundreds of generations.” Mikleo snorts. He has to hide his face behind his hand to stop him from _really_ laughing when Sorey gets out another pen just to start another round of pen-rolling.

“Better that than Gramps’ crusty old antiques. They’re not even heirlooms. He’ll probably want to be buried with those old things.” Sorey says, actually frowning a little when other students start filing in. Mikleo, first, thinks that it’s a little strange, since Sorey was excited for this class, when he feels a similar pang of disappointment when he spots their teacher walking through the door.

Falling silent, Mikleo does crouch to pick up Sorey’s lost and forgotten pen, now, putting it back on the desk without another word.

Of course, when class starts Sorey rolls it back towards him with a playful grin, and Mikleo never was one to back down from a challenge.

 

 

Mikleo has actually been looking forward to the next rehearsal; since last week he feels like he gets along better with Rose and Dezel both, so much so that the latter actually talks to him sometimes instead of the both of them sitting in silence while Rose and Sorey take the spotlight. Not to mention how much better he’s been getting along with Sorey; when they’re alone in class together, their dynamic is nothing like Mikleo’s had with a friend before. They have a lot in common, for starters, and for another, Mikleo isn’t afraid to tease Sorey like he is with Rose.

Sorey _joins_ them this week, too, which rounds off the dynamic a lot better. Mikleo doesn’t feel personally victimised, for one, now that Rose has her usual target back.

“Finally made it!” Rose grins, whacking Sorey on the shoulder hard enough that he stumbles forward a little as he tries to wriggle his way into a seat.

“It’s not like I’ve missed, like, seven hundred rehearsals,” Sorey whines, rubbing his shoulder. Mikleo doesn’t really think he’s at all hurt, but he sure puts on a good show of it. “This is the second one. I promised I’d come, didn’t I?”

“Yup,” Rose doesn’t stop grinning, leaning back triumphantly into her chair. “I’m sure Sergei, the softest guy on the planet, gave you a _super_ hard time about it, too. Did he give you his sad eyes?” Sorey nods solemnly. “Haha, oh man. What a noble sacrifice. The _sad eyes_.”

“I’m a terrible person.” Sorey sighs, but he’s smiling a little under those sad eyebrows. “Thanks for the script, by the way.”

“It’s whatever, dude.” Rose waves him off with a hand. She scoots over so Mikleo can dump himself in the seat to her left, avoiding having to climb over anyone like Dezel had to sit between Sorey and Rose.

Apparently it’s singing today, which, granted, he knew would happen eventually, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling nervous. He doesn’t know what these songs _should_ sound like and if he’ll be capable of learning them properly; plus, there’s probably some sort of standard Eguille wants from them, which is even worse to think about.

Rose, predictably, seems _excited_ about it; Dezel doesn’t seem to care either way, at least, even if he’s got Rose and Sorey either side of him jabbering excitedly. It gives Mikleo the space to wallow in his own worries, at least, without them grilling him about it.

Mikleo feels a sharp jab in his back; it’s one he recognises. He hasn’t felt it in a while – he probably shouldn’t be so eager to spin around and greet someone who threatens to break his spine every time they say hello, but hell, it’s Edna, and she’s never going to stop doing it.

“Hey, Meebo.” Edna greets him first. “Miss me?”

“Hi,” Mikleo nods, flushing under Rose and Sorey’s hot stares. He’s actually going to have to introduce them this time, isn’t he? “I didn’t see you last week.”

“I wasn’t here.” Edna shrugs. “Too busy telling A Capella I would rather die than see them again. I picked up everything I missed, though, so it’s whatever.”

“You gonna introduce us?” Rose says the words Mikleo has been waiting for her to say since the first umbrella-jab. “You’re Mikleo’s friend, right?”

“Uh, yeah. This is Edna.” Mikleo gestures vaguely in her direction. She nods curtly.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Edna uses her voice that means it’s absolutely not a pleasure, but for the sake of manners is pretending it is. It’s fortunate Rose and Sorey don’t know her, because they don’t pick up on it; Dezel raises his eyebrow like he does, but luckily doesn’t have anything to say about it.

“I’m Rose!” Rose grins, putting her arm around Mikleo like it’s no big deal. She gestures with the same hand at Dezel. “This is my boyfriend, Dezel.”

Edna blinks, her lips quirking up into a small smirk. “Want to hear a joke? A vegan, a girl with a boyfriend and a customer that didn’t want ice with that walk up to your counter during your shift at McDonalds-”

“Edna I beg of you.” Mikleo cuts her off with a stern look. Her expression doesn’t change.

He’s lucky Sorey is incapable of reading moods. “I’m Sorey!” He greets Edna with his usual smile before Rose can say anything to her or Mikleo. “Mikleo’s told us a lot about you!”

“All good things, I presume.” Edna is still smirking like she does when she knows she’s putting Mikleo in tough spots. “As if Meebo here could ever badmouth me.”

“You’re the light of my life, Edna.” Mikleo deadpans, giving Sorey a desperate look. As if he was the one he had to worry about.

“What about you?” Rose hums, giving Edna this assessing look. “We don’t see Mikleo with you a whole lot.” Please don’t be a dig, Mikleo begs. Of all the things He Does Not Have Time For, it’s Rose and Edna getting into some weird conflict.

“I’m a senior.” Edna shrugs. “We have a different lunch period. Usually I just make him buy me ice-cream after school.”

That settles it for Rose, it seems, who just gives Sorey and Dezel this sad look. “Why don’t either of you get me ice-cream after school?”

“Ever think you don’t deserve it?” Dezel rolls his eyes.

Rose puts on a look of mock misery. “Ouch. You definitely owe me ice-cream for that one.”

“I owe you nothing.” It’s times like these Mikleo truly appreciates how and why Rose and Dezel are even a couple in the first place. No one keeps up with Rose like Dezel can.

“Okay, is everyone here?” Eguille’s voice wakes them all up, as it always does. It even puts Rose off being a pain, which is saying something, even considering they’re related to each other. Eguille seems to look specifically at Sorey before he speaks again. No wonder. “Great! Let’s get started, then.”

Rosh takes centre stage after Eguille steps back, clearing his throat. Obviously he isn’t used to taking the lead with these sorts of things. “This will be our first music rehearsal. I’m sure you all remember me from auditions -” Rosh waves his hand awkwardly. “- but just in case, I’ll introduce myself again. I’m Rosh Bone, the musical director for the production. I’ll also be conducting the band during the show itself.”

“The score is pretty intense, so the sooner we get into it, the faster we’ll be able to get through it all and learn it in time for full rehearsals. Who here knows how to read music?” To Rosh’s visible disappointment, a little less than half the room raise their hand. At least, with Mikleo seated between Rose and Edna, there’s a row of three of them that don’t immediately ruin Rosh’s plans. “Can’t say I’m astonished - well, it’s not particularly difficult. When the notes on the staff go up, you sing higher. They go down, you sing lower. Sit next to someone who can read music to help you.”

There’s some rearranging; Mikleo doesn’t see where Edna goes, too surprised at the fact that she willingly ran off to help someone, while Rose wiggles herself into a seat that’s between Sorey and Dezel to give them a hand. It leaves Mikleo relatively on his own - he hadn’t seen, not specifically, who had and hadn’t raised their hand, so he doesn’t know if there’s anyone nearby to help.

He’s resigned to sitting by himself by the time he feels a gentle, hesitant tap on his shoulder.

“Sorry, I - ah - you had your hand up?” asks a soft, meek voice from behind, just as he’s starting to think he might be in this alone.

Mikleo turns to see who spoke to him, and recognises the blonde girl from last week in a seat two rows behind - he nods, offering her his best smile. “Yeah. You need any help?”

“That would be lovely.” She smiles, carefully getting out of her seat and gracefully - or, as gracefully as she can - climb over the seats so she’s sitting next to Mikleo. “You’re Mikleo, right?”

“Yeah.” He repeats, cursing himself for being so damned eloquent. “Mikleo Rulay.”

“Alisha Diphda,” she introduces herself with a polite bow of her head. He recognises the name from around school – he remembers talk of her being the niece of one of the teachers, as well as her name being familiar from the cast list that imprinted pretty much permanently into his brain the moment his eyes focused enough to look at it.

“We also have a CD to listen to, to help you learn the parts. I’ll also be leading you through it.” Rosh is speaking up again, effectively silencing the muttering around the room. He nods to Lucas, who starts passing a pack of sheet music around the room. “This is the first song in the show, Old Compton Street.”

“‘Scuse me!” Rose shouts, loud enough that Mikleo and Alisha wince. They share a sympathetic look. “Do I get a solo in this?”

Rosh sighs. Mikleo gets the feeling this isn’t the first time they’ve had to work together. “Yes, Rose, you do, in fact.”

“Awesome.” He can’t see her face, but Mikleo hears her loopy grin.

“You’re her friend?” Alisha whispers, though it doesn’t sound rude. She sounds genuinely curious – she must have seen them together before. “She’s very… Um, loud.”

“I haven’t known her for very long,” Mikleo admits, ducking his head. “She does most of the talking.”

“I can imagine.” Alisha giggles, passing Mikleo the pile of sheets. He passes it on to Sorey a couple of seats away from him as quickly as he can. “And Sorey?”

“Mostly Rose’s friend.” Mikleo says, chancing a look in Sorey’s direction. He’s staring at the sheet music incredulously, like it’s a foreign language. Mikleo quickly stifles a laugh. “We get along, though. I think.”

“He’s cute.” Alisha says, and when Mikleo looks back at her, her eyes are twinkling.

“Okay, I hope everyone’s ready to get started.” Rosh interrupts Mikleo’s line of thought before he can have anything to say about Alisha’s Sorey-related interest. Not that he _had_ anything to say, of course. It’s not like he’s the Sorey-police.

“We’re supposed to have Ms. Mioma narrate and sing the opening, but she’s unable to come to Monday rehearsals due to commitments with the orchestra.” Rosh sounds equally as tired about that fact as he does about the incompetence of the majority of his cast at reading sheet music. “So I’ll be doing the part of Sidesaddle, for now.”

There’s a snicker from Rose’s general direction. Mikleo doesn’t need to ask.

“We’ll listen to the whole song once through,” Rosh says, shooting Rose a glance - clearly he heard her - “and then as a group, go through the choruses. Solos you can work on alone, ask me if you need help.”

He starts to play the tape, and with that, Soho Cinders rehearsals officially begin.

 

 

Practising the song actually goes relatively smoothly, considering it’s the first song they’ve learned. Mikleo guides Alisha gently through each of the choruses, knowing he can sight-read his own parts and selflessly choosing not to worry too much about it now. Mostly everyone’s practising along to the CD, using that as a reference for how they should sound, because Rosh is expecting everyone to put on appropriate accents as well. It’s another layer of difficulty on top of a song that’s already quite intense, harmony-wise. With everyone singing at once it’s easy for it all to become a mess very quickly.

“Have you done this before?” Alisha asks, referencing Mikleo’s comfort in teaching her. “Musicals, I mean.”

It’s probably the third time he’s had to explain this. “No, this is my first time.”

“Oh,” Alisha stutters, looking suddenly quite embarrassed. “Sorry, you seemed quite confident.”

It’s probably just going to make the situation worse if he says that she has a comforting presence, so he just shrugs. “It’s getting easier.” is what he settles on saying.

“This is actually my second show,” she says, tracing the staves with her finger. “I can just never get used to this part. Learning the songs by sight, that is.”

“You will someday.” Mikleo assured her with a smile. “You did fine today, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“Thank you, Mikleo.” Alisha ducks her head politely. “You were a huge help, really.”

Mikleo isn’t sure whether to respond gratefully or dismissively considering how polite she’s being about something as simple as this, but he’s interrupted before he can answer.

“Wow, Mikleo, we didn’t even sound shit! I have a good feeling about this.” Mikleo senses this becoming a recurring theme with Rose.

“We haven’t even known this song for an hour.” Mikleo shrugs, glancing off at Alisha from the side. He actually _wants_ to get along with her, which is more than he can say for the start of his friendship with Rose. “It’ll sound even better when we practice a bit more.”

“I thought we sounded fine.” Alisha talks slowly, as if testing the waters.

“Someone’s popular today,” Rose grins, clambering over the chairs to put her chin on Mikleo’s shoulder. “Who’s your new friend?”

Mikleo opens his mouth to speak, but Alisha speaks for him. “Alisha Diphda. And you’re Rose, yes?”

Rose gapes. Her chin dips into Mikleo’s skin. “Holy shit, Alisha Diphda? Like, that one scary math teacher’s neice Alisha?”

“Ms. Maltran is only scary if you cause trouble.” Alisha says, curt.

Rose turns her head to stage-whisper in Mikleo’s ear. “Feisty, isn’t she?”

“This _is_ Rose, yeah.” Mikleo answers where Rose doesn’t, biting his tongue on the comment he wants to make. It’s mostly about Rose and how she riles up basically everyone on purpose. He likes being alive so he doesn’t say it, but he thinks it hard enough that Alisha must understand, because she offers him this sympathetic look.

“Surprised you needed help at all.” Rose says, loud this time. “I hear your GPA is otherworldly. Wouldn’t believe someone like that can’t read circles on a piece of paper.”

Mikleo actually does do something this time, namely, jolting his shoulder upwards and whacking her on the chin. “Ow, Mikleo!”

“Alright, let’s run through the whole song together once.” Mikleo is going to have to pay Rosh back somehow; he feels like he’s been saved from something terribly awkward. “We’ll just skip on past the parts where there’s dialogue, since that’ll come later anyway. I’ll start everyone off – just follow what’s in your sheets, stick together and follow the cues, and no one should mess up.” There’s an unsaid _too badly_.

Rose slinks back to her seat, giving Mikleo this cheeky grins like she know what’s up – as if it wasn’t her that had just randomly antagonised someone in the middle of a rehearsal. Alisha, thankfully, composes herself much better, as if Rose had never spoken to her in the first place.

“Sorry about her,” Mikleo starts, even though he’s sure he doesn’t really hold anything over Rose to apologise like he was her parent. He still feels like he has to, though.

“It’s nothing.” Alisha smiles back at him. “She’s, um… A character?”

“That’s an understatement.” Mikleo snorts, and Alisha giggles quietly along with him. “She’s okay, usually.”

Alisha just shrugs. “Like I said, it’s really nothing. I think she just likes to start things up.”

“Again, an understatement.” Alisha has to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud, that time.

“Okay, alright, enough nattering.” Rosh sounds exhausted. Mikleo isn’t surprised – teaching a bunch of teenagers a song they’ve never even heard before in less than an hour can’t be easy work. “Let’s get started. The sooner we’ve run through this, the sooner we can move on.”

Mikleo turns his attention to the sheet music as the chattering in the room simmers down to a low murmur. He and Alisha had been sharing a sheet, and she’d kindly turned back to the first page already.

Rosh plays the first few notes on his keyboard, which actually does silence the rest of the room. Instead the sound is replaced by everyone in the room shuffling to stand up to sing properly – Mikleo thinks he hears Sorey trip over on the other side of the stalls – and then nothing but the piano before Rosh starts to sing.

 

_Join the party on old compton street_

_Feel the pavement throb beneath your feet_

_Take a seat_

_Watch the show_

 

Rosh’s lead replaces the part of _Sidesaddle_ on the sheet, which is supposed to be sung by a female – this much Mikleo knows – but he manages just fine, obviously well practised in singing outside of his usual vocal range.

 

_Nothing’s normal on Old Compton Street_

_Dressin’ formal as you jump aboard_

_Step inside_

_Urges will be satisfied_

_Here where life is sweet,_

_Old Compton Street_

 

Rosh nods over to Rose, who takes the next solo in the song. They’d been working on solos outside of the chorus that Rosh had led, so Mikleo hadn’t had the opportunity to hear it yet; he spares Alisha a glance, though when her expression gives nothing away, he chooses to look at Rose instead.

 

_Life’s a circus on Old Compton Street_

_Punks and rockers and the rich elite_

_Drink and eat, side by side_

 

Rose spares no expense; she performs as though this weren’t just their first rehearsal of the song, her voice loud and rich and confident. She doesn’t even spare her sheet music a glance – Mikleo isn’t sure if it’s to show off or not, since she must _know_ that everyone’s looking at her, even if she doesn’t give that away. She has the room so captivated that there’s a stumble when the chorus starts up – Mikleo delights in hearing Alisha unphased next to him – which makes Rose smirk. So, yeah, she totally knew.

 

_Fun’s contagious on Old Compton Street_

_It’s outrageous there are boys for boys_

_Boys for girls_

_Boys for old men wearing pearls_

_No one’s obsolete_

_Old Compton Street_

 

The whole room manages to collectively stumble and bumble through the chorus, giving Mikleo very little time to prepare for his oncoming solo. It’s short, at least, like Rose’s, but the only person to hear him practice it so far is Alisha. Her reassurance that he sounded okay was fine enough, but when he opened his mouth, he wasn’t sure of his own voice all of a sudden. Even to his own ears he sounded too plaintive and nervous.

 

_Within this melting pot_

_Some have and some have not_

_A pizza base you stumble upon_

_With everything on_

_Every flavour!_

 

More confident now – or at least, not as phased by Mikleo as they were by Rose, which is a little offensive as a concept considering how hard he tried to sound good – the rest of the room joins in for the last line of his solo verse. He risks a look to his right, where Rose was still standing with Sorey and Dezel. Dezel isn’t looking anywhere, predictably, and Rose is just smiling while she sings, but _Sorey_ out of all of them _is_ looking, giving Mikleo this wide smile.

He must catch Mikleo looking because he shoots him a thumbs up. Mikleo flushes bright red and looks away immediately.

 

_Try a slice of life_

_Old Compton Street_

_See the flies that swarm around the meat_

_Trick or treat_

_Who can say?_

 

This time there’s less stumbling, but it still sounds sort of awkward as people who have never tried to harmonise together ever try to harmonise. Mikleo grimaces, his voice drowned out by the cacophony of teenagers trying their absolute best to be louder than the next.

 

_Pick your poison on Old Compton Street_

_Girls and boys on show_

_And gay or straight, or still unsure_

_Every taste is catered for_

_Here where all worlds meet_

_Old Compton Street_

 

The two voices that start of the next verse sound even more awkward than Mikleo felt his did, but he doesn’t recognise their sources. He spots a goth-looking girl closer to the front singing one half of the duet, looking incredibly bored as she sings (Mikleo doesn’t think she’s really trying, snobbish as it sounds)

 

_We love to spot celebrities_

_And nobody can blame us_

_But all too often we forget_

_The reason why they’re famous_

_But rolling the red carpet out_

_Is bound to cause a buzz_

_And then we stop and rubberneck_

‘ _Cause everybody does_

 

Mikleo winces a little at the way everyone’s voices seem to clash; unused to how the song is supposed to sound, and unused to hearing it in their own voices without the support of a backing track, the whole thing seems out of time. He tries his best to at least time his own singing with Alisha’s, since he can hear her best and she seems to be following the same beat that Rosh is. They’d sound okay if it was just them, probably.

 

_Catch the rhythm up on Compton Street_

_Where the bright young things_

_Turn up the heat_

_Pound the beat_

_No holds barred_

 

The chorus sounds a _little_ better; Mikleo would hope so, what with it being the third time they’ve sung the same tune. Rosh doesn’t look quite so miserable to hear it this time, either.

Mikleo takes the next verse; it was different in the CD, but the script had handed the solo to him instead of it being Rosh’s again. Having to sing two solos in one day is sort of daunting; he wasn’t prepared for a room of nearly twenty to hear him sing so many times when he walked in this afternoon.

 

_All cities have the same_

_One street that knows no shame_

_A bright facade whose surface is thin_

_But hard as a nail_

 

Alisha is bumping his arm gently as he continues; a reassuring gesture that he appreciates. Everyone joins back in for the rest of the verse, conveniently just as his voice cracks so he doesn’t think anyone other than Alisha hears it.

 

_Scratch it and sniff_

_But never remain_

 

_Heads are turning on Old Compton Street_

_Ears are burning while the endless stream_

_Passes by_

_Rainbow flags are flying high_

_Try a slice of life_

_Every vice is right_

_Here where all worlds meet_

 

There was a brief moment of respite for everyone to take a breath before the big finish, with everyone coming together for the final line.

 

_Old Compton Street!_

  
The silence that followed the end of the song was more than a little disconcerting.

“Well,” Lucas clears his throat. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Not bad for a first try.” Rosh shrugs, switching off the keyboard.

“Sounded like a trainwreck to me.” Rose snickers from Mikleo’s side.

“Don’t be a pessimist!” Sorey speaks up, looking sort of flushed. “It’s only the first rehearsal, and I thought we sounded pretty good.”

“You were good.” Alisha says from Mikleo’s other side, which is a nice respite from eavesdropping. “They were right to cast you in the lead.”

Mikleo ducks his head, flushing at the compliment. “You sounded pretty good too.”

“Well, I guess that’ll do for the ensemble. We still have the room for another hour, so – Lunarre, if you don’t mind sticking around for your solo song -” Rosh is frowning at a clipboard in his hand. “Rose, Mikleo, you can both read sheets, right? If you two could stay too, so we can work on one of your duets. Everyone else, go home and practice if you have time.”

“Good luck with Rose.” Alisha whispers from one side, smiling sympathetically. Mikleo shakes his head.

“She’s fine with me. I’ll tell her off for you, though.” He’s not sure he’ll be able to go through with it, really, but the sentiment does make Alisha smile properly.

“It was nice to meet you, Mikleo.” She says, giving him a gentle nudge with her shoulder before picking up her things. “I’m really looking forward to working with you more.”

Mikleo smiles and nods her goodbye, before turning to look at Rose. Dezel is talking to her about something, from the looks of things, but it doesn’t seem like she’s really listening. Instead, she’s staring after Alisha with this oddly hostile look in her eyes.

He just wished he understood why.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song they sing in rehearsal is this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6A0jZXcJDCw  
> i promsie rose and alisha r going to be friends i just never see them having that weird antagonist rs they have in the bonus ep and like its funny??? they punch each other
> 
> _Spin! Spin out of control_  
>  _Sign the paperwork and sell your soul_  
>  _Spin! Doctor every word you say_  
>  _Spin until you win the day_
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: hey im going through a big depressie idk when the next update will be but hopefully soon, my apologies


End file.
